Diamond Dogs
by Verasque
Summary: Modern AU. A forced marriage pushes infamous tomboy, Al Trebond, into the world of school god, Jon Conte. But will romance blossom amidst family schemes and high school politics?
1. Princely Princess

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter One: Princely Princess**

* * *

Thom's car was full of junk.

There were empty CD cases, receipts, t-shirts, a pair of faded black rubber thongs, several McDonalds takeaway bags, magazines, a stained green tie, two unopened tissue boxes, old detention slips, and two bottles of coke in the backseat. Al knew that if she opened the glove compartment; pens, a creased sci-fi novel, a pocket dictionary, empty chip packets and half a deck of cards would readily fall into her lap.

For all the contents inside his car, Thom was ironically missing a pair of sunglasses, an air freshener and the essential collection of coins. Disgusted and annoyed, she waited for her twin. Thom may have been the smartest student in Corus High, but he lacked any sense of punctuality or organisation. Among other things. His red hair was currently dyed too blonde, and clashed horribly with his darker eyebrows and violet eyes.

As he made his way to the car, a large drop of strawberry jam from his toast fell onto his new white shirt. Al snorted as she watched her brother smudge it with his pinkie, effectively making it worse, before he shoved the rest of his breakfast into his mouth.

Getting in behind the wheel, he started the engine. Sensing her irritation, he shrugged in apology. "Sorry, sis. My shampoo ran out and I had to run upstairs to get a new bottle from your bathroom."

Al was glad she wasn't in the house to see that. "You should set your alarm _and _buy your own stock of shampoo."

He grinned, "My alarm doesn't work and you're there anyway. Besides, you don't use flowery shampoo, so we can share. We're family!" He just about whistled the last part as he narrowly missed crushing the side view mirror of their neighbour's flashy convertible.

"Whatever." Al hissed, grabbing onto her seat. Thom was a reckless driver, but he managed to escape unscathed every time. The same applied to his friends. Speeding tickets, skid marks and close calls in running over pedestrians were regular occurrences. A stranger might have taken Thom for a studious nerd, but what they didn't know was that he was a regular member of the upper circle of their school's social scene. It was a shame that his sister stayed away from his friends—but both Trebond siblings knew it was a perfectly good and reasonable arrangement.

Thom, because he didn't want any embarrassment or any complications. And Al, because she wanted her hymen and all her brain cells intact. She may not wear skirts, but at least she still had her dignity. Her fellow female peers were reduced to desperate giggling idiots each time Thom's friends walked by. It was expected, typical and thus extremely pathetic.

Thom had once thought the same, and Al was left to wonder why Thom had chosen to join the enemy. But looking at his carefree and slightly wild nature, she knew that popularity was the main benefit for him, as well as what Thom insisted were "good, loyal friends despite what you think, Al." Al didn't believe that last one, but at least his elevated status eliminated any chances of the bullying Thom had suffered up until the end of junior high.

She couldn't help it if she was the sportier twin. At least Thom got the brains of the family, so he never had to worry about failing a test. The big world was interested in what prestigious university one attended, how much money one made—and hence could give. Unfortunately, they didn't give a damn if one were the reigning State Swimming Champion for the past four consecutive years.

Whenever Al used this tactic to cheer up her brother, she somehow ended up being the depressed one. While Thom brightened to the point of gloating, Al would fire back that at least she wouldn't drown in a flood or at the beach. And so the cycle would begin again.

Al could have taken a more lovingly and sisterly approach to motivate Thom. But Alanna Marie Trebond did _not_ do emotions any more than she did dresses, make-up or shopping. She figured there were enough girly girls around her everyday to fill in that quota. As long as people let her be and engaged her in intelligent conversation from time to time, then she was a happy chappie with a tight and willing control over her pet temper. Less disaster for others, less detention for herself. All in all, it promised an equilibrium made of win.

They passed through four sets of traffic lights and ten roundabouts before they made it to school. Al's irritation levels went up as they encountered traffic they wouldn't have if Thom hadn't woken up forty minutes late. Thankfully there were no major dramas, and the lines of cars moved quickly after a short while. Al's sour mood lightened once they pulled into one of the last remaining parking spots, and realised they had some five minutes to spare before the first bell.

* * *

Making sure she had no crumbs or stains on her clothes—she never knew when it came to Thom's car—she grabbed her backpack and strode into school. She left Thom behind, knowing he had to find a pen and spare paper in his junkyard of a car to use for class. She hoped he remembered to lock the doors before leaving, but wasn't too worried since no one in their right mind would even think, let alone want, to nick that dumpster.

Once she entered the hallways, she sighed. The crowds of students were painfully not moving and she had to push her way through in order to reach Doug's locker. A freshman girl accidentally bumped into her on the way, and the girl gave Al a dirty haughty look. No doubt the pretty thing was appraising Al based on her get up. Used to this kind of meeting, Al summoned up her best wicked smirk before the freshman was off with a squeaky huff.

Al Trebond never apologised unless it was for a worthy reason. She might have been a tomboy, but she was still part of Corus High's social hierarchy, and even new pretty faces still had to learn the dos and don'ts.

She purposely slammed into the locker next to Doug's, but when he didn't so much as blink in surprise, she raised an impressed eyebrow. "You're getting better."

Pointedly looking at her, he dropped his bag into the locker. "I've known you for too long, Al. Your dramatics don't faze me at all anymore."

"Really, now," she said, while staring at his new buzz. She'd known Douglass Veldine since she was ten years old, and never had his long dark hair ever been moved from its same combed-back position.

"Yep. Hey, I got this for you." He handed her a nice black leather belt, and her attention was momentarily diverted. The belt had a large square buckle covered in glittering silver _thingies._ He laughed once he saw the look on her face. "I know the diamond buckle isn't your style, but you were complaining about needing something a little loud but practical. I saw this in a store in Sydney, and thought you might like it."

"I do. Thanks, Doug. Just give me a few weeks to settle with the sparkle." He laughed again, and she put the belt in her backpack. Doug and his family usually went to Australia during the summer for a month to visit his mother's family. As his best friend, she usually always received a souvenir. Years ago, he brought her back a stuffed koala, only to learn that Alanna Trebond did not find stuffed animals or koalas 'cute'. The next year, they both bonded over the pocket knife he gifted her with, and from then on, they had been best friends.

"So what's with the hair, Veldine?" Al asked him. "Now your dandruff is gonna shower down like snow flakes."

"I don't have dandruff, you douche." Doug replied, unfazed by her teasing. "I thought it was about time for a new look."

"You don't look any different. You're still the same asshole," she assured him and patted his prickly head. "Yep, still the same! Only less hair. Does that mean you're less of a total ass?"

"Ha ha. So funny!" He mocked, and punched her in the shoulder at the same time that the bell rang. Wincing slightly, she gave him the finger as he shut his locker and they made their way to homeroom.

Greeting their peers, they chose seats near the back of the room. Sacherell Wellam was tall, blonde, and green-eyed and had saved two seats for Doug and her. Zach, as he preferred to be called, shook his finger when Al took the seat on his right. "There go my hopes! I thought you might have had a sudden epiphany during the summer and would rock up at school looking like a princess."

"In your dreams," Al said while she watched in amusement as their homeroom teacher walked into the room, looked down into his coffee mug, and walked back out. Mr Olau couldn't go through the morning without his caffeine. She was glad that he would be their homeroom teacher this year. She turned to Zach. "I'd do that as much as you want to be called _Sacherell_, Sacherell."

He cringed. "No thanks, princess. I'll stick to Zach."

"You're just in need of some drama," Doug informed Zach.

"As if I don't have enough of that at home." Zach sighed. He was referring to his living arrangements with the Naxens. Mr Naxen was the Vice Principal, and his son Gary was one of the most popular seniors. Zach was a family friend whose parents were often overseas more than they were home, and as a result he had picked up on Gary's love for flair, attention and drama. "But Al is a constant source of entertainment. So much potential, Al."

"And you waste yours being such a gossip." Al shot back, ignoring the two boys' smirks.

Mr Olau wondered back into the classroom at some point in the next fifteen minutes. He reminded them of general administrative policies, and warned them not to be late nor to skip classes so he didn't have to worry about the paperwork involved.

Towards the end, he asked Zach and another two guys to help him put up posters and a gigantic wall map of the world. Al was unfortunately missing the height needed to accomplish such a task. Some of the girls helped put spare textbooks on the empty shelves. Mr Olau was almost as disorganised as Thom, but he was the best history teacher in the entire school. He was also the only one who could beat Thom in chess.

"Let's hope this year will be a whole lot more interesting," she told Doug wistfully. Her friend sighed in agreement. _Famous last words, Trebond. Famous last words._

* * *

Most of the day went by pretty quickly after that. First day of classes were usually pretty laid-back, and teachers just went over rules and introduced the topic that would be covered under the syllabus. Her usual first set of periods were replaced by a school assembly that welcomed them all to a new school year, yada yada. There were quite a few new staff and teachers joining them, but Al paid no attention.

She spent the time staring at her new belt and its shiny buckle, and figuring out when the hell she'd be able to wear it. She texted her manager back to say that she couldn't fill in because there was volleyball tryouts after school, and Thom had yet another commitment he had to attend because he was some sort of genius or whatever. Her car was nonexistent, and she hated catching the bus. She couldn't rely on her father to pick her up and drive her to work either.

Lunch and the last part of the day were unexciting. It only got interesting during volleyball tryouts, wherein Al was amazed at the number of unqualified girls who showed up. Josaine Isles, a blonde junior who had transferred from some private school halfway through last semester mocked Al's short stature and suggested that Al should have tried out for the boys' team. Al had been one of the first people to befriend Josaine—a feat in itself since Al had only few female friends, and even fewer ones with Josaine's loveliness (blech). But as soon as the other girl latched onto Thom's group of friends, she ditched Al and the rest of them to promote short skirts and brainless babble.

It made Al's day when she _accidentally_ spiked the ball straight onto an oblivious Josaine's powdered nose. That effectively shut the other girl up, and made sure that her nose wouldn't be perpetually stuck in the air for the next week. It took very little and simple things to make Alanna Trebond happy.

Putting someone in their place was one of them.

* * *

She was looking for Thom's car when she heard two girls giggling in a playful way. It grated on Al's ears as much as the small raindrops splashed on her skin. That meant only one thing. Either Gary Naxen or Raoul Goldenlake was in the near vicinity. Al wouldn't be surprised if the weather wanted to announce their royal presence. Desperate to find a distraction and save herself from hearing the ensuing flirtation, she picked up as soon as Thom rang her mobile.

"Where the heck are you?" Al demanded.

"Calm down, Al. I finished up my after-school tutoring, but Dad called me to pick him up from the airport. I'm still on the way. You're going to have to catch the bus."

A tick developed on her left brow. "And you felt it only necessary to tell me this after I called to find out where you are? Didn't you see the clouds and think that maybe your kid sister might be caught out in the rain with no ride home?"

"Sorry." Her twin whimpered. "And 'kid' sister? We're only three minutes apart. But Dad—"

"Don't worry about it. I'll find a way home by myself." She gritted her teeth when the two girls' giggling turned into painful screeches.

"Awesome , sis! I'll call you when I get to the airport to make sure you're still ali—" Al shut her phone, only to flip it open again and dialed.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end was groggy, and Al knew her cousin had just woken up.

"George! You're still asleep? It's nearly five!"

She heard some shuffling as he yawned. "Be thoughtful 'Lanna. I work late, you know that."

"Fine. Can you do me a favour?" She waved goodbye to a few of her friends as they exited the parking lot.

"What now?"

"Can you pick me up from school? Thom's on his way to the airport to pick up Dad, and God knows what time the bus will get here."

"Gimme one good reason why. I should go back to sleep and be wide awake for work tonight."

The rain was falling heavily now and she had no umbrella. Besides, when did it rain during summer? She growled. "_Because_ Cooper, I could tell Tay that you, oh preppy college student, have a crush on her too."

"You wouldn't!"

She bared her teeth even though he couldn't see her. "You know I would."

"You're a pain in the ass, 'Lanna. I'll be there in ten."

"Make it eight, Cooper." And he hung up as soon as water soaked her baseball cap. She was about to turn to run back into the building when a huge bright orange umbrella fell over her in a shadow. Surprised, she found Jon Conte standing next to her. _Random, _was her first immediate thought. _Awkward, _was the next.

But it explained the giggling bimbos who left a few minutes ago. Heaven forbid a hair be out of place when in The God's presence.

At her confused look, he gestured towards the doors leading back into school. It was pretty far from the lot where she was standing. "Thought you might need the umbrella."

She considered saying no, but she nodded and deliberately chose to keep her mouth shut. They walked the distance easily an arm's length apart, but that was fine with her. The umbrella was big enough and Jon Conte was a person she liked to keep her space from. But she wasn't stupid enough to decline his offer of dryness.

When they reached the doors and some shelter, she glanced at him quickly. "Thanks."

"No worries." He was just as clipped as she was.

He shook out the umbrella before leaving it open to dry on the ground. She waited for him to leave, but he surprised her again when he chose to sit against the opposite wall, a safe distance away. He had been to her house twice before, but both times she had locked herself in her room and let Thom entertain his friends.

She supposed it was a bit rude, but that was life. She wasn't there to entertain the school's elite. Jon Conte may have been the King of Corus High, but she bowed down to no one. Not even him. This probably explained their relationship. They neither disliked nor liked one another. Jon Conte didn't scare of enamour her.

But he did mystify her in an odd way. Those clear ocean blue eyes made her feel violated.

They spent the next few minutes in silence. They hadn't really spoken to each other in their whole school life except for the occasional nod of greeting during social events outside of school that both their fathers attended. So when George's shiny bronze Eclipse rolled into the parking lot at 5.05, Al was only too glad to escape.

* * *

"Your carriage has arrived, princess." George drawled as his window slid down. Al snorted, knowing that her Vans, cargo pants, checkered shirt and cap only emphasised her tomboyish preferences. As she made her way to the passenger seat, she missed George's salute to Jon Conte.

"More like a pumpkin." She amended, unimpressed. She put on her seatbelt, having learnt the lesson that George and Thom shared the same love for fast, berserk driving. "And you're the lowly footman." At least she could find the seatbelt in George's car.

As he exited the school grounds, Al turned to see that Jon Conte had disappeared. She discarded him from her mind just like she always did. The King of Corus High was a scarily smart, handsome devil. It was just too bad Al didn't give a damn.

She had better things to spend her time on.

Such as her father's impending return. She fiddled with the radio, until she found a station that agreed with her.

"Your dad's back, huh?" George said with sympathy.

"Yeah. _Daddy's _back, at last."

"What? Two, three weeks this time?"

Al shrugged. "It doesn't really matter. He'll be gone before the end of the week, anyway."

"Maybe he'll stay longer this time." George was only trying to be comforting. Al didn't take that for granting.

She looked out the window, and touched her hat unconsciously as an orange car drove past. "I doubt it."

"Want some grub? My treat," he asked a few seconds later as they approached Jo's Diner. She didn't bother answering since he was already easing his beloved Eclipse into a parking spot. She would have preferred to have taken a shower before eating, but George was the driver and who was she to complain?

As she got out of the car, she spied a familiar girl dressed in what was probably designer white jeans and a really sparkly black top that stung Al's retinas. The girl was with her friends, but only a blind man would miss the obvious fact that the girl's raven hair and perfect face marked her as the most beautiful girl in the entire diner.

Smirking, she shoved her hands in her pockets and taunted her cousin, "Oh I see. Has your sudden gracious offer to feed me for free have anything to do with a certain high school girl known as Tay?"

He glared as he tucked his shirt into his jeans. "I have no idea what you're talking about, princess."

"Say what you want, Georgie-boy. But you never offer to treat me out for anything. Excuse me if I find this somewhat extraordinary! I thought you had to sleep some more so you could," she lifted her fingers in quotation marks, "'be wide awake for work tonight'?"

"You better shut up or I'll leave you here without a ride home."

"Ha! So it _is _because of Tay." Al pretended to busy herself by pretending to inspect her colourless stubbed nails. "You are both so pathetic. Pining for each other, yet too scared to do anything about it. Love is pathetic."

"It's not love," George said softly, and Al knew George wanted to add a _not yet anyway._

"It is," she cemented.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "And how would you know? I thought you didn't have time for useless hormone-driven romance?"

She floundered. At his patronising chuckle, she decided to glare instead. "Just get me food."

"Aye! Anything for you, dear pri—"

She shot him a dirty look. "Stop calling me _princess._"

He looked affronted. "How did you know I was going to call you that? For all you know, I might have been calling you Prince."

* * *

They spent half an hour at the diner, and Al was reduced to being a spectator of the George-and-Tay-sneaking-secret-glances-at-each-other-because-they-were-both-pansies/in-love-fest. Thom called her like he said he would, only to tell her that their father wanted her dressed and prepared to go out for dinner by seven.

After George and her finished their meal, they made their way to Al's house, where George dropped her off and wished her a happy family dinner.

Resigned, she trudged upstairs and took a quick shower. She shaved her legs, scrubbed her skin raw to a shine and brushed her teeth. She threw on a pair of black skinny leg jeans and a plain dark red blouse that she reserved for rare occasions like this. She didn't bother with any makeup, nail polish or perfume. Jamming her feet into a pair of black shoes, she pulled her long and wet bright red hair high into a ponytail. She looked at her collection of baseball caps with longing.

She made a face at the mirror once she saw her reflection. This was the most feminine she'd ever looked, and it was making her uncomfortable. Moving away, she saw that she had a little under an hour to spare and fixed her things for tomorrow. Putting her books and pens into her backpack, she took out the belt Doug had given her and hung it on a hook behind her bedroom door. Turning off all the lights upstairs, she went down and put in a DVD as she waited.

Her phone vibrated, and she automatically reached for it just as Sam Whitwicky's dog Mojo peed on Ironhide. The text was from Thom.

_**Nearly home. Get Dad's best bottle of wine ready.**_

She thought they were going out for dinner. She texted back.

_**Why?**_

A minute later her phone buzzed again.

_**Going over someone else's place to eat. You better be ready.**_

Rolling her eyes, she walked out of the room and stood in front of her father's vast collection of wine bottles and came to a blank. She didn't know anything about wine. Her father would have to do it himself. The closest she came to alcohol was vodka, spirits and alco-pops. But he didn't need to know that, and besides… she was underage. Wine also didn't hold much appeal for her even though it was served at every social function she attended with her family, so she never bothered to educate herself on spotting the difference between the good ones and the crap ones… if people even did that.

She flipped open her phone and asked Thom whose house they were visiting. She was about to go back into the living room and turn off the TV and DVD player when he replied back. Al knew that if her brother had been there in front of her, he would have stuttered his answer nervously.

_**Dinner at the Contes'.**_

She grimaced. Great.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Acknowledgments go to **.14karatgold.** of whom is the superwoman behind the shaping and cultivation of Corus High and American high school politics.


	2. Dinner at the Conte Dollhouse

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Two: Dinner at the Conte Dollhouse**

* * *

The ridiculous ashtray on the low coffee table looked far more interesting and feminine than Al did. Not bad, she thought, for a fancy and filthy rich family that owned a house that made hers look like a fish bowl _without_ the little rocks and the plastic seaweed.

As she inspected the crystal item, she wondered if rich people were just so rich that they bought items they didn't use just to have something to spend their money on. As far as she knew, Roald Conte condemned smoking. Everyone knew that it was a serious offense to so much as carry a lighter in the presence of the city's most prominent figure. Al didn't need to question why most of Jon Conte's friends were well acquainted with cigarettes, and The God himself wasn't.

That was one redeeming quality about him, she supposed.

As she continued to look around the small sitting room, Thom bopped his left leg impatiently. He had no qualms about feeling right at home; after all, he was here so often that he might as well have been part of the household. The tapping of his shoe against the gleaming marble tiles had nothing to do with nervousness. If anything, it suggested that Thom was waiting for the moment Al would inevitably open her big mouth and shame them all with whatever came out. Such confidence, Al mused.

She opened her mouth to humour him, when Lianne Conte glided into the room. She had a large welcoming smile on her face, and Al felt the words leave her mouth. Lianne Conte's hair was swept up in an elegant manner, and large diamond-studded sapphires winked on her ears as well as around her neck. She was dressed in a smart black pants suit, but it was her vivid green eyes that jumped out at Al.

"Thomas," she greeted warmly, before turning her attention to Al. "And Alanna. Welcome to our home."

"It's a great house, Mrs Conte." Al said automatically, barely remembering her manners.

Thom only murmured a polite "Good evening, Mrs C."

The older woman smiled as if she were tired. "It is a splendid mansion, isn't it? It dates back several generations and has been handed down my husband's family." Al resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was there for dinner, and not a genealogy lesson. She knew her fried chicken and chocolate mousse, but not Contes and fancy doll houses. Mrs Conte must have sensed her thoughts, for the woman smiled apologetically and motioned towards the hallway. "Enough about that. Why don't you both come into the dining room?"

Al waited for her brother to move before following. Around the house were antique furniture, decorated with gaudy ornaments and too many flower arrangements for Al's liking. As they passed the foyer, Al stared in awe at the floor-to-ceiling mirror that spanned an entire wall. She automatically darted forward, distracted, and clucked her tongue. _Crazy! Not even a single fingerprint. They must pay the hired help a lot._ Al didn't even feel guilty as she pressed her pinkie against the silver and left a small print. _Might as well. Al was here!_

"Al!" Thom hissed, and Al only smirked when she saw her brother looking faintly sick. What was his problem?

Sticking her nose into the air as she had seen Josaine Isles do flawlessly, she strode past ahead and ignored him. She thought she heard him mutter "Freakin' hell," but she wasn't sure.

The dining room resembled a ballroom but with a long, dark mahogany oak table that seated ten people. It was set for six, with candles and small eccentric pottery littering the middle. There weren't, thankfully, any flowers. But what drew Al's attention was the tall man near the bar, who was talking in low serious tones with her father.

He towered over Alan Trebond a good head and shoulders. Roald Conte was probably once a much built man, but he was now only lean—as if all the work he did sucked the life out of him. Al remembered how the grey in his blue-black hair had gradually peppered over the past three years. She was certainly in his office enough to know that the grey at his temples hadn't been there the last time he had spoken to her. Or rather, lectured her.

"Al," he nodded, "this is certainly a first. I don't think I've ever seen you here before. Only Thom."

She cocked her head. "Hmm. I think I visit you enough, sir."

"Yes, of course. Because of you, my desk is always full."

"I love helping you do your job." She couldn't control the dimple that surfaced on her cheek.

"Alanna," her father warned, and she instantly sobered.

"What I meant was _Good evening, Principal Conte._" She said it in her most serious voice.

Thom rolled his eyes in the corner somewhere. At this point, Mrs Conte came forward and motioned towards the dining table. "I'm sure there's plenty to talk about, but we can continue the conversation over dinner." There was a note in her voice that irked Al. As Al slid into the seat between her father and Thom, she stared at the empty seat opposite her in curiosity.

"Ah yes, Jonathan will be late tonight. He sends his deepest apologies." Principal Conte's eyebrows were set in a disapproving frown, but Al dismissed it since she was too busy eyeing the food that was being set on the table.

She brought her hands together as Mrs Conte said grace. The adults talked among themselves afterwards as Al and Thom both dived for the pasta at the same time. They must have come across as barbarians since Mrs Conte stared at them in shock. Thom blushed, as usual, but Al took the opportunity to help herself to a large, generous serving. Once she finished, Thom took some for himself although much more consciously and modest.

Feeling somewhat observed, Al looked up only to catch Lianne Conte look away. Either the pasta had somehow stuck between her front teeth, or the woman was only realising now just how much Al Trebond was nothing like Delia Eldorne or Tay Wilima. The former was a constant fixture in Jon Conte's social life (and his bed, no doubt), and the latter was a girl whom was respected and lusted after by every male in the city. If Al really was a guy, she'd have probably chased after Tay too. _Not as pathetically as George but, _Al decided. She'd be a cool guy.

Unperturbed, Al was shovelling in a forkful of pasta and reaching for some chicken when Mrs Conte looked pointedly at Al. "So Alanna, how are your studies?"

"So-so," she mumbled.

When Al didn't elaborate, Mrs Conte gave her husband a look. "I see."

"Al is doing fairly well," Principal Conte supplied. "Much better than one would expect, although not in the same league as Thom."

"I don't think anyone is as smart as Thom," Alanna remarked. Her brother ducked his head in embarrassment but didn't say anything.

Her father put his knife down only to pick up his wine glass. "It would be nice to see Alanna put more effort into her studies, and cut down on the sports."

Clutching her fork tighter, she looked at him. "Sport helps keeping me focused." _But you wouldn't know that since you aren't here most of the time._ "And I'm not failing or anything."

"Failing isn't the only indicator of poor academics, Alanna."

"I'm sure Al understands, Alan. She hasn't been called in to see me for a long time now." Principal Conte jumped to her defence, but Al knew it was only to halt any chances of an ensuing argument between father and daughter.

Mrs Conte nodded. "Do you aim to do much better this year, dear?"

Al hated it when people did that. Did they think she would burst into tears or suffer from low self-esteem? "Yes, of course."

"Then that's what matters." Mrs Conte let out a small laugh as she smoothed her hair. "Jonathan was never much for studying until he reached ninth grade. But after a while, he discovered its importance on his own. Now he balances sports and extra-curriculas alongside his school work at his own pace."

"That's why he's the student body president," Thom pointed out as his red eyebrows met the hairline of his dye-blonde hair. Al often questioned if Jon Conte's status had anything do with the fact that his father was the Principal, and his uncle the Vice Principal.

Mrs Conte beamed enthusiastically at Alanna. "Yes, we're very proud of him."

Duh.

As she ate more mouthfuls, the conversation turned towards Thom and his work as an after-school tutor. The adults all praised him, and Al elbowed her twin when he stuttered his appreciation. Somehow, she lost the thread of topics and her concentration drifted. Only when Jon Conte appeared in the dining room's doorway did Al take any active interest again.

"Jonathan!" His mother exclaimed.

"I'm back, Ma." He kissed her soundlessly on the cheek, patted his father's shoulder and turned to Alan. "Good evening, Sir. I apologise for being late."

Her father laughed. "No worries, Jon. Good to see you, son." And they shook hands as if they were great old chums from way back when.

To Al, Jon Conte nodded. "Alanna."

What was she suppose to say… _Good evening Jonathan? _"Er, hey," she said and then burped.

Well.

That wasn't _so_ bad. Especially not towards a guy who had provided her with a giant orange umbrella earlier. It wasn't like they even talked at school. Anyone who called her by her full name was either a stranger or her father. Sometimes they were even both. "Sorry!"

"Yeah right." Thom muttered under his breath, as Jon Conte straightened. Alan dropped his head into his hands and Lianne Conte hid her horrification behind a dainty hand. Al panicked briefly for a moment. Crap! Was she suppose to be embarrassed or something? Peeking at Jon Conte, she relaxed a little when she noted that he wasn't even the least bit offended.

Principal Conte sighed. "I can see this is going to be a long night."

Al couldn't agree more. But wait—was that a cake box she had spied in Jon Conte's hand a few minutes ago? Hmph. Now that the pleasantries were over, it was about darn time for dessert.

"…though I'm not taking AP Latin Literature like Jon. But I think Al's taking Mr Olau's new class, though. Right, Al?"

"Huh?"

Thom sucked in a patient breath. "You're taking Ancient History…"

"Yeah." Al nodded. "It should be fun," she added genuinely.

"Excellent!" Mrs Conte clapped.

Her father looked pleased, "I have to admit, it is an interesting subject to study. Maybe Jon here can help you if you need it, Al."

Al looked to Thom as soon as 'Al'slipped from her father's lips. Had she missed something? But her brother was frowning, and he sent her a look of confusion that probably mirrored her own.

"Jon, of course, is also just starting this class." Principal Conte reminded them all.

She was going to be sharing a class with Jon Conte? "What's the big deal?" Al asked. "It's just a class. And who says I'm going to need any help?"

"No one said that you did, Al," Alan said, "We were just pointing out that option in case you did need it."

Slightly offended that her own father would think so little of her academic abilities, she closed her mouth and fiddled with the dessert spoon. Looking around, she caught Jon Conte studying her with steady blue eyes. Uncomfortable, she stared back. It was the first time that they had ever really paid much attention to each other, and Al found that having her guts twisting inside her was not a welcome feeling. Maybe it was the fact that Jon Conte did not look at her in the way that most people did.

He saw her differently because they were the same.

"I would really appreciate it if you and Jon could become very good friends." Principal Conte suddenly said.

"Why?" But it was Jon Conte who asked, not her.

Roald Conte shared a brief look with his wife before addressing them. "No reason. But knowing you both personally, I believe you can learn much from each other. Also, having more friends never hurt anyone, did it?"

"I dare say Thom will appreciate it." Mrs Conte piped in with a beatific smile.

But Thom's answering grin was made of fake. Al knew that her twin was positively terrified at the notion of his esteemed pal being friends with his rambunctious sister. What Al didn't know was how right she truly was, and that Thom was already calculating then and there who had the upper hand if a confrontation occurred between them.

Why were they forcing this? If she and Jon Conte wanted to be friends… they'd do it on their own. Al decided then that this was definitely the oddest dinner she had ever attended.

A telephone rang while the soft clamour of clinking plates announced the arrival of the dessert. As the maid placed her serving in front of her, the butler politely whispered in Jon Conte's ear. With a sigh, Jon Conte clapped the old man's forearm. "Just tell Miss Eldorne I'll call her later."

"Of course, Master Jonathan."

Resisting the urge to snort, Al admired the slice of cake in front of her. It was a rich marble cheesecake with strawberries and kiwi cut in tiny cubes on the side. The chef must have drizzled the cream on top, because it was fashioned in perfect symmetry.

Oh how heaven had fallen to earth.

* * *

She was mid-way in chewing her third spoonful when Jon Conte inquired, "Do you think you'll make the volleyball team?"

Al shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't play volleyball often or with the same interest as other sports." But she was impressed that he remembered, and his voice sounded nice when he was talking normally. "You?"

"Basketball's already started. I don't really have the time for other sports anymore."

"Oh, 'cause you got debate and stuff." What else could she say?

The left side of his mouth lifted. "Yes."

Thom shifted restlessly beside her, and whispered quietly as the parents chatted amongst themselves about the school board. "What's with Mr C wanting you two to 'become very good friends'?"

"I dunno."

Jon Conte shook his head, a frown marring his face. "No idea."

Thom squinted unexpected fiery eyes. "Something weird is going on."

Thom's comment made Al glance at Jon Conte, who pursued his lips purposely before they both looked away. Al knew then that their awkward exchange in the school parking lot that afternoon would remain an odd secret for now.

* * *

In the following half hour, they moved towards the Conte's living room for coffee and tea. Al was content to sit on one of the massive leather recliners that nearly swallowed her up and texted George back to go stuff himself when he asked if she was still alive and had spared her father any grievous bodily harm. While the men spoke with her brother and Jon Conte about their college plans, Lianne Conte drew Al into conversation. Somehow, Al ended up uncomfortable and bored as the woman showed her pictures of their family from a photo album.

There was a funny picture of Jon Conte when he was young, where he was sticking his chubby finger in one of Gary Naxen's nostrils. An older boy with the same Conte face—who Lianne informed her warmly as Jonathan's other cousin, Roger—was laughing in the background at Gary's pained expression, and Jon Conte's determined one. But what really caused Al to crack up was seeing a two-year-old Delia Eldorne crying beside Roger as she too watched Jon Conte with his finger up his cousin's nose.

Trust Delia to have been an "attention-whore" ever since she came out of the womb. Al found herself in disgusted awe at the visual evidence that the girl had craved Jon Conte's interest her entire life.

_How dare Jon Conte pick Gary's nose and not Delia's!_

It was nearly ten when they got home. Thom went straight up to bed and her father murmured a sincere "Good night Alanna" before he locked himself in his study. Al played the movie she was watching before they had gone for dinner, and promptly fell asleep ten minutes into it.

* * *

The ride to school the next morning was quiet and sombre, but at least her father drove safely and Thom and she weren't late.

The first few periods went by without a hitch. There was something about having new books and pristine white pages again that Al liked. She shared her third period class with Zach and two of their other friends. Zach filled her in about the basketball team, and how Corus High's main rival, Tusaine Prep was already boasting about winning state that year. Al had expected Zach to be fuelled up about it, but he proved her wrong when he pulled a toothpick out of his pocket and chewed on it instead.

"You thinking of going to Homecoming?"

Al sent him an uninterested wave as she copied down the notes from the board. "What do you think?"

Zach propped his leg up on the side of her chair. "I think you need some romance in your life, my flamingo."

Al stopped writing. "'My Flamingo?' Seriously, where do you get this stuff?"

"It's all moi."

"Whatever. I don't need romance."

"But that's where you're wrong. You're so ready! You just don't know it."

Al let out an exasperated puff. "I don't date, period."

"You haven't been abused have you?" Zach asked in sudden concern.

"No."

He lowered his voice, "How about ra—"

"No."

"Do you like girls then?"

"What? _No._ Do I look like I like girls?"

Zach looked sheepish. "You've got a point, there. Hmm. What we need is an unexpected candidate who will charm your dark dragon soul, and get you into a kinky black backless dress. Or would you prefer a low-plunging gold one?"

"Zach, can I borrow your scissors?"

"Huh? Why?"

She turned back to her work. "So I can stab you with it, dumbass."

"Ooh I'm scared." He mocked. One look from her and he dropped his leg from her chair. "Okay, shutting up now."

* * *

Al sighed in relief when she reached her next class and found her friend, Alex Tirragen, lounging in boredom on his seat next to the window. They bumped fists and Al slid into the seat on his right. She had known Alex since junior high and it was Alex who taught Al how to play soccer when all the other boys refused to do so.

"Trebond, better save the seat next to you."

"Hm?" Where the hell was her pencil case?

Alex yawned. "Raoul's in this class too."

Wonderful. Al sometimes forgot that Alex, Raoul, Gary and Jon Conte were bosom buddies that did nearly everything together. Wanting to leave and not sit anywhere near that giant Goldenlake, she resisted the urge. Alex would tease her, and she was not in the mood. She pulled on her nonchalant mask. "'Kay."

As she was pulling out her book, a deep voice greeted Alex. "Hey bro."

"Raoul. This is Al. Al, Raoul."

"Hey." Al provided, trying to keep her voice steady.

Raoul Goldenlake folded his 6'3" frame into the seat on her right. "Hey. Thom's sister, right?"

"Yeah." God, why couldn't she be that tall? "Did you want to swap seats or something?"

He shook his curly head. "Nah, don't worry 'bout it. This is fine." _No it wasn't!_ She was squished between two hulking giants, both of whom ran in the popular clique.

Al stayed silent for the next fifteen minutes. Mr Mukhtab was an interesting old man with a mysterious grace that Al found appropriate to the subject he was teaching. Al never bothered with Religion before, but she had made it a goal to do better in her academics this year and had chosen the subject at random. She just didn't know that most of her class comprised of seniors, and that most of the juniors were girls who paid more attention to the two boys on either side of her than the teacher.

She was forced to borrow a pen from Raoul since her pencil case was missing, and Alex only carried one pen and a green sharpie. Towards the end of the period, one of the girls in the row in front finally built up the courage to lean back and speak to Raoul.

"Is it true, Raoul? Were Gary and Cythera Elden making out in the supplies cupboard?"

A grin ghosted on Raoul's lips. "Hm. Maybe."

The girl's sparkly pink lips pouted. "But what about Penny?"

"What about her?"

The girl's eyes widened at Raoul's bored tone. Al couldn't prevent the snicker that escaped her, and Alex applauded slowly from her other side. Raoul was right. Penny Rivers was a big-busted blonde who clung to Gary Naxen like the airhead limpet she was. Only a dumb girl would date Gary knowing that his love-hate relationship with Cythera Elden was just the prologue to a very long passionate courtship.

Or so Zach had put into words. Al sometimes worried about what the Naxens were feeding him.

She didn't worry long, because at lunch she spied him eating a granola bar. As she approached their table, Doug and Zach both saw her at the same time and their eyes widened. She was about to ask what the hell they were looking at, when pieces of conversation drifted into her hearing.

"Omigod! There she is! _Her _family had dinner with the Contes last night."

"Katie said that her cousin Lorraine heard from Tyler who got a text from Kara that Mrs Conte was even showing her baby photos of Jon!"

"Is it true? Is Al really going out secretly with Jon? Delia is going to be _sooo_ pissed."

"I always knew Jon and her had some weird cold sexual tension. _Damn._"

"Omigosh! But that's like… gay or something. Like, isn't she a, like, tomboy?"

"Alanna Marie."

Surprised, Al turned around. The school's most beautiful and powerful girl stood before her.

"Delia."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Love to **.14karatgold.**, and Preethi; the debating/SBP reference is for you :)


	3. Delia, Queen Bee

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Three: Delia, Queen Bee**

* * *

"Don't mind the rumours."

Alanna sighed. "Don't worry, I won't."

"I knew I could depend on you for that." Delia's smile was lovely and approving.

The Eldorne bombshell was the embodiment of every guy's wet dream. Al wasn't a fool. At nearly six feet, Delia was a walking barbie but with brains and dark hair. She had a knack for making other girls cry and reduced many boys to spineless wimps if they couldn't meet her standards. If there was one thing that Delia was, then it was a Queen Bee. Al reckoned no one deserved that title better than this quarter-Spanish, quarter-Persian bitch currently dressed in a jean miniskirt, and a silky white top that emphasised her generous bust.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" Delia asked; her voice friendly but dripping with underlying poison.

Al's eyes narrowed, knowing she had to be careful when associating with Delia. "It was pretty good. They didn't have second helpings when it came to the dessert, though."

They were both aware of the sudden quietness of the cafeteria. "A shame," Delia murmured amused. "You should have asked."

"Erm, I didn't want to overstep my privileges as a guest."

"Noble of you, Al." Delia lifted her chin. "As long as you enjoyed it. And don't worry about the rumours, I can help you there."

"Uh… thanks?"

"You owe me." With a swing of her hips, Delia Eldorne's long legs carried her towards Jon Conte's table and far away from Al.

Just how Al liked it best.

When Al moved again, the entire cafeteria let out a deep simultaneous breath and the chatter began almost instantly. Al's irritation meter soared, and when she got to her table, she slammed her water bottle loudly. None of the guys spoke a word to her, knowing that she was liable to either clam up like a mute or combust into furious flames during the aftermath of yet another rare encounter with the Wet Dream.

Al was used to people throwing her into gossip mills, and this time it was no different. Yet it was the first time that her name had been linked with Jon Conte's. Al wondered briefly why Delia hadn't asked if the rumours were true. Then again, Delia was smart enough to realise that it couldn't be any further from the truth, and had probably spent the previous night flirting and sprouting sonnets or whatever it was that she did with Jon Conte over the phone.

Gugh.

Taking a swig of her water, she turned to her friends.

"You okay?" Doug asked.

"Please. I survived and escaped with a debt. It could be worse."

"True," he grinned.

Zach suddenly pounded his fist on the table. "Tell me that the rumours are true!"

Al ignored him, and stole a fry from Doug who swatted her hand away. "Don't touch my fries. You'll leave cooties."

"Tell me if the rumours are true!" Zach repeated.

"Which one?"

A simultaneous gasp issued around the table. "You mean there's some truth to all this?"

Al smirked, knowing that Doug was remembering back through the past year for any signs that his best friend may have been engaged in hanky-panky with the school god.

"We did eat dinner at the Contes' last night. The pasta was good."

Zach nodded, suddenly happy. "Oh my flamingo! I forgive you for not telling me. No wonder you weren't _dating, period. _You're H-H-W-W-ing with Jon." He turned to the other guys and smiled cutely, wiggling his fingers. "Isn't that romantic?"

"Wait, does that mean that it was like Meet The Parents?" Geoffrey asked in confusion.

"What's HHWW?" Doug added.

Zach squinted. "Holding hands while walking. Geez cuz, get with the program."

"Sorry I ain't a fagg—"

Al snapped. "Stop already! I am _not _dating Jon Conte." Her voice carried over the cafeteria, and the talk dropped to fascinated whispers. _Ugh!_ "We just had dinner there. Anyway, what's the difference? Thom's over there all the time."

"You know that everyone's just looking for something to talk about," Doug supplied, ever the best friend.

Geoffrey, a friend she met through Alex, stretched. "Everyone's also curious about you, Trebond."

Al scoffed.

"It's true," he affirmed. "You aren't friends with many of the girls at school, and you hang around us. On top of that, you've put a dent in the social hierarchy of our dear Corus High."

"I think you're the only girl that Delia actually, um… respects," Doug said. Al chose not to say anything as she remembered that significant conversation she had with Delia at the beginning of her sophomore year. Back then Delia had been waiting next in line for the title of Queen Bee.

"Oi, heads up."

* * *

A reverent silence descended upon the entire room as Jon Conte entered the cafeteria. Behind him was Raoul Goldenlake, who caught her eye and raised his brow. Lifting her arm slightly, she waved his pen in the air to indicate that she hadn't lost it. Both boys moved towards their table, and Alex suddenly strolled into view, carrying a tray filled with fries, hot dogs and three bottles of orange juice in only one hand.

He nodded to Al and her friends before moving, and the three dark haired athletes met in the middle of their respective paths and sat down at the table already half occupied by an array of jocks, girly girls, and cheerleaders. Delia herself wasn't sitting next to Jon Conte, but Al knew Delia enough to know that the girl had class and wouldn't lower herself to cling. Instead, Jon Conte sat beside Alex and one of the cheerleaders who, refreshingly enough, wasn't batting her eyelashes at The God.

When Jon Conte pushed his bottle of orange juice towards Delia—an act of familiarity—he looked up around the cafeteria briefly before his eyes landed on Al's. Straightening, she held his gaze until he nodded at her. _Talk about vague, _she thought. What did he think about the rumours? He didn't appear the least bit concerned.

Somewhere, a girl tittered. "Omigosh, Jon just gave her _the_ nod!" Al knew it was probably a sophomore. Sighing, she almost felt so sorry for all those desperate girls who had nothing better to do than talk about other people. They would be meeting Delia's wrath soon enough.

She was later walking to Mr Olau's eighth period class when Jon Conte fell into step with her.

"Glad it's nearly the end of the day?" He asked.

She made a non-committal sound. "Since it involves getting away from these bim—err, _girls_—then yes."

He chuckled and the sound drew Al's eyes to his face. It was a perfect face, she had to admit, as if it had been sucked and lifted and compressed and smoothed over by professionals. But it didn't really move her, or cause any butterflies in her tummy. When Al looked at him, all she saw was Jon Conte, a guy who excelled in sports and possessed a high GPA.

She shifted her book under her other arm. "About the rumours…"

"Just ignore them. You know the truth, anyway."

"Isn't it affecting your reputation?"

"Maybe," he said. "But not really. Everyone will forget about the rumours in a couple of days."

Huh, he was always as cool as a cucumber. That earned him some brownie points, since Al couldn't keep things together without letting everyone know exactly how she was feeling. But in her opinion, putting on a mask was dishonest and there were only few things that she hated more.

* * *

Al gladly ignored the whispers when she entered the history class with Jon Conte. She unconsciously chose the seat she usually sat in during homeroom, and her spirits lifted when she saw that two of her friends were in the same class. They talked for a while, during which Al discovered that there would be a new transfer student coming sometime this semester. Apparently a student had heard the Vice Principal, Mr Naxen, speaking to the office admin ladies about it.

"Welcome to Ancient History," Mr Olau announced, "the newest subject offered by the education board. This semester, we'll be studying Greek and Roman myth."

"Like the Trojan War and stuff?" Someone asked.

"Yes, the Trojan War and _stuff _are part of it_,_" Mr Olau explained. "_Stuff_ which isn't too challenging; so everyone should do well on the exam."

Images of wooden horses, fancy people wearing towels and sandals, and Hercules eating a Caesar salad rose in her mind. With a groan, she realised that this was far from the Aztecs, Shang Dynasties and Vikings that she had imagined. Why didn't she read the course descriptions, dammit?

Now she'd be stuck reading about how Zeus ruled the mountain, and how his wife had a cow at his man-whorish ways. How charming, she thought, that the romance fizzled eventually.

Oh God, romance and sex.

Somebody might as well steal her brain now, while it was still functioning properly.

"Textbooks will be issued out by the end of this week. Before we begin, I'm going to put everyone in groups of three." Half the class perked up, while the other grunted in complaint. Mr Olau picked up a red baseball cap and shook it, but didn't shush the class. "I'll pick the names from this hat, and while you aren't partners, the three of you will be required to work together during the numerous group activities and research presentations throughout the semester."

Al saw some of the girls smile at each other, hoping to either be together or in a group with one of the few popular seniors in the class.

"First group… Lori Zimmerman, Francis Nond and… Adel Vo." Al watched in amusement as Lori and Adel gave sly looks at the blushing Francis. Francis was what most girls described as a 'total sweetie', but Al teased him all the time about how his shy countenance wasn't in harmony with his brutal soccer skills.

Mr Olau read name after name, until Al was hoping that she wouldn't be grouped with any airheads, jocks or losers. Glancing around, that was just about everyone.

"Gary Naxen," Giggles always seemed to follow Gary Naxen's name. "Jonathan Conte, and the last person who will complete the fourth group," The other girls held in their breaths at the possibility of being teamed with the two, but Al felt a foreboding descend upon her spine as Mr Olau opened the small scrap of paper. "…is Alanna Trebond."

Coincidence was a cruel, cruel thing. Al couldn't control the twitch in her eye when Gary Naxen's voice carried clearly through the room.

"I look forward to working with the girl who stole my limelight today."

Her only answer was to grunt and slide lower in her seat. When he didn't continue, Al was pleasantly surprised. The rest of the period consisted of Mr Olau going through the topics that would be covered, as well as the assignment. For the last fifteen minutes of class, they watched a small video about Greece, wherein Al tried not to fall asleep in the darkness of the room.

When the bell rang, Al was only too glad to escape, but found it slightly worrisome that Gary Naxen had let her go interrogation-free.

* * *

Nevertheless, she hurried to her locker where Thom was waiting. Her brother ran a hand through his hair when she approached.

"You alright?"

Al shoved her books inside her locker. "I'm fine. The rumours didn't cause me to hide and break down in the bathroom."

"No one harassed you or anything, right?"

"What's this?" She gave a teasing grin to her twin. "Are you actually the one being all protective this time?"

He nearly sneered, but Thom was incapable of doing something as mean as that. "No… it's just been a hectic start of school…"

"Seriously, I'm cool. You ready?"

"Whenever you are. You were pretty quick in getting to your locker just then."

Al shifted on her feet. "The video was so boring I needed to get outta there."

"I thought you liked Olau's classes?" Thom inquired.

_Yeah, but Jon Conte and Gary Naxen were never in them before._ "Yeah, but it's the first class. Boring crap, you know."

As soon as they reached Thom's car, Al blasted on the air conditioner. The heat was a huge contrast to the warm rain from the day before and Al didn't mind the junk in Thom's car at that moment. She just wanted to go home, have some ice-cream and take a nap.

* * *

They pulled into their driveway behind a familiar bronze Eclipse.

Her father was drinking a cup of coffee in the kitchen when she entered the house. George was sitting on one of the barstools eating chili con carne. Wondering where it came from, George answered for her.

"Your dad picked up a new recipe."

She turned to Alan. "You cooked?"

"Yes. I learnt how to cook a few dishes while I was away." He added more sugar into his mug. "And since I'll be here for a while, I thought I might as well put those new skills to work."

Amazing.

"How long will you be here for?" She asked carefully.

"Until November. My next conference lecture isn't until then. Are you hungry?"

Thom bounded in, "I am! Woo! Chili for an afternoon snack! What's for dinner then?"

Al shared a significant look with George as her father moved to get Thom a bowl of his own, but her twin just grabbed a tortilla chip and dunked it into the pot. While her father scolded Thom, Al spoke with George.

"What are you doing here, Cooper?"

George pretended to look offended and shook his hair back. "What? I can't visit my uncle and two brat cousins?"

"You just couldn't pass up the invitation for free food. What did the old man need you to do?"

"He asked me to pick up a delivery from the post office since its closer to my place. Plus I need to go to work early tonight, anyway, so he offered a free dinner."

Al clucked her tongue. "Typical. What was the delivery?"

"I thought you knew what it was," George looked startled.

"No. Probably more books or something."

George scooped more chili onto his bowl. "I don't think so. I didn't open it and there was no writing on the envelope. Your dad wanted it in your room, but then changed his mind and took it to his study."

"It's for me?"

George shrugged. "Guess so."

Now she wondered what was in that envelope. Turning to her father, Al smiled. "I'm hungry now."

* * *

When her father didn't mention the package, Al took Thom's car and went to the supermarket to try and dim her curiosity and impatience. She wondered through the aisles aimlessly until she reached the stationery aisle. She rifled through the cheaper choices to replace the contents of her missing pencil case, and contemplated going to Wal-Mart after she finished at the supermarket to purchase a Dymo labeller.

She was headed towards the sports drinks when her manager called and asked her to work on the weekend. Assuring him that she was free to do that, Al closed her phone only to stop and dart back into the aisle when she saw Mrs Conte, a black woman and one of the maids from the previous night's dinner picking groceries from the cheese and ham section just ahead of her.

It was so surreal to be seeing Lianne Conte in a supermarket that Al found herself eavesdropping on the conversation. She busied herself by pretending to mull over the chocolate milks in the rack next to her, never minding the fact that she normally wouldn't be interested whatsoever in the affairs of hoity-toity society women. Not that Mrs Conte was snooty or a snob...

"There's so much work ahead of me that I didn't even realise," Mrs Conte sighed.

The black woman sounded amused. "Was she that bad?"

"Not bad," Mrs Conte said, "Just different and very stubborn. I can only imagine what her reaction will be."

"How did Jon react during that first meeting? Hm, do you prefer light cheese?"

"Oh Roberta knows. Roberta?" Mrs Conte called the maid, who moved to pick the Conte's favoured cheese. "Jon was wearing his enigmatic mask. He did seem amused though."

"Is Jon ready for this?"

"I hope so, Regina. He needs this kind of stability. But sometimes I wonder… Anyway, we're still making preparations. It will be a while before we publicly announce it to anyone, even them."

Regina made a sound of approval. "It sounds like the best course of action. As his godmother, I offer my services in helping you coach the girl into suitable lady material. Only the best shall be good enough for our Jon."

"Roberta… is shaved leg ham or English ham the one we want?"

"Shaved leg ham, Madam," Roberta replied shyly.

The Regina lady laughed. "I thought you had a chef for this kind of thing, Li?"

"I want to prove to Roald that I am not completely incompetent," Mrs Conte declared, and smiled as some people greeted her.

Al turned around so they wouldn't see her face as they finally moved and passed her aisle. When they were safely out of view, Al turned the corner quickly and moved in the direction that the women had just come from. After getting Caesar sauce, toilet paper and shampoo (for her brother), she headed towards the registers where a girl with black hair, black nail polish and nine piercings on her ears and face rung up her items. The girl mumbled "that comes to twenty-six dollars and fifty cents" in a bored, dull voice, and Al kept her mouth shut.

As Al exited the automatic sliding doors and walked to Thom's car, she found a glossy black limousine parked in two spaces blocking her way. With absolute dread, she watched as Jon Conte looked up from where he was playing with his PSP, and out his open window to where she was.

* * *

Trust the Contes to need a bloody _limo_ just to go to the supermarket!

"Hi," she offered first, while holding the two grocery bags in her hands.

He looked slightly bewildered to see her. She was probably popping up everywhere to him that day too. "Alanna."

"I, er, saw your Mum and her friend inside with Roberta—the maid." No need to say that she was hiding like an idiot and eavesdropping on their private conversation.

"We're having dinner over at my uncle's house. The woman with my mother is my uncle's wife."

Al still couldn't believe that a limo was parked outside the supermarket, "Oh, that's nice." Why was she such a dumb-ass around him? God, she was so pathetic.

Jon Conte talked to—who Al assumed was—the driver. "Timon, can you help Alanna with her bags?"

Horrified, she started to protest. "No! I mean, thanks for the thought, but it's not necessary! Thom's car is right there," she waved in the general vicinity that she thought she parked the car, "and I need to stop by Wal-Mart before I miss dinner."

"You're sure?" He solicited.

"Yah. Thanks," she started moving and clutched the shopping bags tighter to prevent herself from skimming the limo's smooth exterior with her hand. "Bye!"

She received no reply, but wasn't too bothered by it. Stuffing the grocery bags onto the front seat, she reversed and then zoomed out of the lot like a looney. _Like Thom or George_, a voice in her mind thought, but she didn't pay attention since she was starting to feel displeased.

On any other day, she would have mocked herself by joking that she was a popular girl. But Raoul Goldenlake, Delia and Jon Conte were too much for her in one day. Thank god Alex was relatively normal, so there was no weirdness there. And Gary Naxen hadn't bothered her, so it wasn't as bad as it could be.

But still, her mind griped, Delia possessed far too much oestrogen than Al could handle. It was playing around with her brain cells.

* * *

She decided against going to Wal-Mart and made her way home. Her father was cooking grilled fish, and Thom had been ordered to start making the salad when she had left to go to the supermarket. As she turned right at the lights, and approached the first of the many roundabouts she would have to pass, she started plotting as to how she would be able to get hold of the envelope that George had picked up for her father earlier.

After thinking it through she decided that she would just have to sneak in her father's study when he wasn't home. When that would be, she had no idea, since Alan Trebond had finally decided that he wanted to stay home for a change. Man, she just had the worst luck!

She reached home some five minutes later. Taking the grocery bags, she trudged through the front door and left them in the hallway, before going back to put the car in the garage. After locking everything up, she helped Thom set their small four-seater dinner table since the two of them were so used to eating in front of the TV. The grilled fish smelled great, and Al was thankful that she wasn't going to be eating baked beans, a cheese and tomato sandwich or pizza for dinner.

While the food wasn't as good as the feast at the Contes' the night before, it came a close second. She grudgingly praised her father, who nodded and thanked her and Thom for helping with dinner. It was an awkward but fulfilling meal.

After dinner and the dishes, her father and Thom watched TV while she went upstairs to her room and chatted for a while on MSN with her friends. She put up with Zach's jibes that she should be spending her time making out with Jon instead of being online, while trying to correct the rumours. If word reached her father… she didn't know if she even wanted to know what would happen. At ten o'clock, she turned off her computer and made her way into the bathroom.

As she brushed her teeth, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation she had overheard at the supermarket. She had an elusive idea as to what Mrs Conte and Jon Conte's aunt had been discussing. She supposed that arranged marriages was common practice in families as old and prestigious as theirs. There was no shadow of a doubt that Delia was going to fight tooth and nail in this if she wasn't considered in the running. But knowing that Jon Conte had no idea as to what his parents had planned for him made Al feel funny.

She couldn't imagine how she'd feel if that ever happened to her. Nothing would ever make it feel less than forced if it did. Rinsing out her mouth, she stuck her tongue out at her reflection in the mirror. She pitied the girl who would be Jon Conte's arranged bride. Conversely, on second thought, the girl-slash-lady would probably thank her lucky stars for getting a boy as rich and (slightly) handsome as Jonathan Conte.

Al found herself thanking God again—this time for being as good as a boy herself.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Acknowledgments to **.14karatgold.** for being a fountain of information for me.


	4. A Cat in Jo's Diner

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Four: A Cat in Jo's Diner**

* * *

It was on Friday, later that week, when the rain returned with a vengeance.

Al had asked Thom to drop her off at Jo's Diner after school, before he went back and stayed for two hours to tutor two guys from the hockey team. Why anyone would want to tutor or be tutored on a Friday afternoon escaped her. After an hour, the grey clouds that had stalked Corus all day decided to finally release their pent up frustration. Al polished off her burger as she watched the rain pelt the street hard. She chuckled when she spied three girls running to cross the street under one small umbrella.

Turning to her remaining fries, she put away her math homework and decided to do the rest when she got home. She usually spent her time at the diner while she waited for Thom in the afternoons when he had tutoring. Since she would be working for most of the weekend, she used the time now to complete her homework. This habit worked well for her, and with the diner not as a full as it usually was, people left her alone.

She pulled out her novel for English and slumped against the large window. Lifting her black and white Chucks-clad foot on her other knee, she also took out her iPod and put the earphones in. Moments like these really insinuated why her life felt so monotonous.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, she was brought out of her reading when a gigantic, unforgettable orange umbrella passed her window. Her recently aquired Jon Conte radar pinged in fervour. Lifting her book even closer to her nose, she wondered why he was walking around town and not sitting in the back of a limo.

She was turning the page when something poked her sharply on her ankle.

"Sorry," she heard someone apologize over her music.

Annoyed, she put her book down only to catch Jon Conte sliding in the bench opposite her. She narrowed her eyes at his now folded umbrella, and he put it against the window and away from her ankle. His presence didn't bother her as much anymore, but it was still weird to be associating with him now. Slowly, she took out her earphones and put her iPod away.

Over the week, they had talked a few times, and her family had had dinner at his house once again just the night before. In no way did this mean that they were friends, or any of that bullshit. They were just mutual acquaintances that spoke to each other. Jon Conte belonged to a world that Al had no interest in being part of. It was out of politeness, and a smidgen bit of curiosity, that she spoke with him.

A week ago, she would have just passed him in the hallways without so much as a glance. Nowadays, she passed him in the hallways with a genuine "Hey." Thanks to their (stupid) parents, and their "having more friends never hurt anyone" belief.

A small hissing noise echoed, and Al's eyes blinked furiously as Jon Conte placed his rolled up basketball jersey on the table. Wrapped within the material was a small midnight kitten soaked to the bone.

"It's a cat!" she pointed out, rather stupidly.

"Mhmm." Jon Conte murmured and beckoned a waitress.

The raven-haired girl in the standard green and white uniform was only too eager to glide towards them and glue herself to Jon Conte's side. "What would you like?" She purred at him, and Al almost wretched. _Typical!_

"Can I get a bowl of milk?" He asked politely, and gestured towards the kitten who had perked at the sound of the waitress purring.

The waitress cooed when she saw the feline, and praised Jon Conte on his caring nature. Al watched in delight as Jon Conte's face stayed stoic in an effort to contain either his laughter or his annoyance.

"I'll be right back!" The waitress announced and cat-walked her way to the counter, while conveniently forgetting to ask Al if she might have wanted something.

Turning her attention to the two in front of her, Al studied the cat. It was small, perhaps only a few months old with the blackest fur Al had ever seen. It was currently nuzzling Jon Conte's hand, while staring straight back at Al. A little freaked out, Al stared back and could have sworn that the kitten's bright eyes had turned as purple as her own for a good split second. Why Jon Conte had a kitty with him, she didn't know.

He didn't waste time in telling her though. "Are you interested in having a pet cat? This tyke needs a home."

"I dunno," Al said as she leaned back in her seat. "Why don't you take him? Or bring him to those places that you know… takes in stray animals. Or maybe someone's looking for him, or her," Al added.

"He doesn't seem to belong to anyone. I found him being attacked by some larger cats a few blocks away."

Oh. _Poor thing?_

Al's eyebrows creased. "Don't you want him?"

"I wouldn't mind, but my parents aren't too excited by pets," Jon Conte continued drying the cat with his jersey, until the waitress finally returned with the requested bowl of milk. After Jon Conte repeatedly denied that he wanted anything else, the waitress finally left again. "It's a good thing practise was cancelled today. I wouldn't have found this guy otherwise."

The kitten advanced to the bowl, and after realising that it was safe after the first lick, it proceeded to drink in earnest. Al and Jon Conte watched as the kitten made sure to clean any drops that landed on its fur by accident.

Al scratched her cheek. "I can't believe we're talking about a cat in Jo's Diner."

Jon Conte's lips quirked, but he said nothing.

Another thought came to her. "I can't believe they _let_ a cat inside the diner," Al whispered in disbelief. Then, as if chance was explaining, Jon Conte pulled out his Blackberry and Al knew that the Contes were given free reign to do anything in this city. With their money and prestige; allowing the youngest Conte to bring a kitten into a diner was the least that the citizens could do.

"So, do you think you'd like to take him in?" Jon Conte asked again, a small smile on his face as he texted someone.

As if sensing the vibes of the conversation, the kitty stood up and approached Al slinkily. Staring, as if it had grown another head, Al moved forward and laughed when the animal sat proudly like a king, and thumped its small tail on the table while glaring at her. It seemed to say "just accept me, because my master wishes it so!" Clearly, the cat's loyalty lay towards his pretty-faced preppy saviour.

Thinking that it might be interesting to actually have a cat in the house, Al considered the idea. Her father didn't mind pets; he had owned a large labrador when Al was still a child, but poor old Rufus died when Al was in fifth grade. As for her twin… Al grinned, unaware that she looked like a psycho brandishing a knife before a new victim.

"I wouldn't mind a pet to keep me company," Al chirped, probably the cheeriest she had ever been when in Jon Conte's presence.

He nodded, pleased. "I'll help you, of course."

"That's not necessary." Being acquaintances was enough. "It'll be a good challenge for me."

He just looked at her for a long time, then shrugged. Did he do this with all the stray animals he found? It was unsettling to realise that there was something deeper beyond Jon Conte's pretty face and athletic image.

Shifting her attention, she hesitantly patted the kitten. He resisted at first, before relaxing and allowing her awkward touch to comfort him. "I got into the volleyball team," she remarked, and tried not to wince as the kitten's tongue poked out to lick her fingers.

"I know," Jon Conte said. What, no congratulations? When Al looked up questioningly at him, his eyebrow lifted. "Josaine was telling Delia."

At the mention of the hoe's name, Al's face crumpled in disgust and she leaned back in her seat again. While she had no problems with Delia (except for the older girl's overbearing attitude, overbearing perfume, overbearing femininity, and overbearing relationship with the God), Josaine Isles was an asinine donkey masquerading in the form of a plastic high school girl that just wouldn't leave Al alone.

No one, and she meant _no one_, used Al Trebond. Especially when it was to climb the ladder of their school's social scene through Al's connection to her brother, and his connection to the God.

Too bad Josaine Isles was too busy making an ass of herself to have missed that memo. Where Delia was smart, Josaine was just a plain bimbo. Delia might have been a bitch, but she didn't pick on anyone that didn't do anything to her. Comparing Josaine to Delia was like comparing SPAM to caviar. No one even thought about doing it.

But Josaine did have a more loyal legion of fellow bimbos. Delia didn't really care about anyone but herself and Jon Conte (Ken). It was a reflection of Barbie's (Delia) reign being traded in for the newer, shorter, and inflated-headed Bratz doll (Josaine). How Al even knew that, she didn't know. Al had only ever had two barbies when she was six, both of whose heads she had ripped off and hidden under Thom's pillow to scare him. She had chucked the bodies into the recycling bin, only to realise that even though they were made of plastic—she needed to go back and transfer them into the general garbage bin.

"Josaine made it into the team," _shockingly, _Al gritted her teeth.

"Yeah. She's good at volleyball," he replied neutrally. Al didn't care if she had sounded condescending or had offended one of his little muffin cakes. Sometimes she forgot that he hung around Josaine.

On cue, the kitten burped and jumped down into her lap for a nap. It took her a while to get used to its weight on her legs, but as long as he was good and didn't drop or leak anything unattractive on her jeans, then she didn't mind. Once that was settled, Jon Conte retrieved his jersey and put it in his bag. She ordered a banana smoothie while he asked for a vanilla shake, and they spent the next half an hour just taking about the randomest things Al had ever really conversed about.

* * *

They both left the diner when Thom arrived just before five, and they gave Jon Conte a ride home. The way Thom's eyes had widened in fright and disgust at the bundle in Al's arms caused both Al and Jon Conte to laugh. While the guys talked about their plans to attend Cythera Elden's best friend Gwyn's party on Saturday night, Al sat quietly in the backseat, trying to figure out what name she was going to give to her new pet.

When they got home, there was a note on the fridge from their father saying that he would be home around eight. Passing on the message to her brother, Al opened the freezer and took out the frozen hashbrowns. She put it in a tray and stuck it in the oven so that Thom could have something to eat. After she set the timer, Thom came into the room and tossed her an envelope. The local library's logo glared at her, and she cursed as she remembered that she still had to pay her overdue books.

When she couldn't get the seal to open, she picked her pet up from his seat on the couch and made her way to her father's study. She bypassed his bookshelves, and was rifling through the desk drawers for the envelope opener, when a large package caught her eye. Her heart suddenly pounding, she abandoned her overdue loan notice and her hands naturally gravitated towards the large yellow envelope.

There were no logos or words indicating what it was or where it came from, but it did have her father's name and their address on it, as well as stamps that read "IMPORTANT" and "FRAGILE" in red ink. Finding that it was already open, she slid the long but slim navy velvet box from the package, and ignored the papers inside. Thinking it was a fountain pen, and wondering why her father would get her something so boring, she was confused when she found what was inside.

Two gold rings stared up at her, both of them heavy and extravagant. They both sported similar crests where a normal diamond would have been otherwise. The ring on the left was thicker, and the crest shaped in a flat square. It was clearly designed for a man. The other ring was thinner, and the crest more oblong in shape. The crests supported a large smooth ruby, and carved into it was an intricate gold cat.

"Is that it?" she murmured to her pet. Her father probably needed it for his next research assignment. The black feline meowed, and a disappointed Al shut the case and returned the package to how she had found it. "Guess George was wrong." When she exited the room and realised that the cat wasn't following her, she went back and found him sitting near the envelope opener.

Astonished, she laughed and praised him. "You're pretty smart, huh?"

* * *

The next afternoon, ten minutes after she had gotten home from work, Tay called.

"What do you want?" Al whined into the cordless as she changed out of her uniform and into a pair of old black basketball shorts and an oversized green t-shirt.

Al could hear Tay chewing on her fingernails. "I'm going to do it…tonight!"

"Do what?"

"_It! _I've decided that tonight is the night," Tay whispered, a hint of nervousness and excitement in her voice.

Al froze. "Uh, shouldn't you be talking about this to one of your friends?"

"I don't know. I just felt like telling you."

Al had to admit that Tay Wilima was the last person on earth anyone would ever imagine would be calling Al to speak about boys. Not only was Tay the most desired girl in Corus, but Al was infamous for having hardly any female friends, if any at all. Their friendship had come about after a strange episode that Al wasn't inclined on revisiting.

"I didn't even know you had a boyfriend," Al pointed out, already feeling pity for George. That boy had been in love with Tay for more than a year now. Oh, how the mighty will fall.

"Oh, you're right. This is our first date."

_What?!_ "Tay, isn't this a bit too early to do on your first date?" What was it with these girly girls? "Don't you want to wait, or, um, something?" Was that the right thing to say?

Tay sighed dramatically. "But I've felt like this for months now."

Al nearly drilled a hole into her carpet from all the pacing she was doing. _I can't believe I'm talking about sex to the girl of all girly girls! _Maybe she should introduce Tay to Zach. He was certainly more fit to handle something like this. Not that she was saying that Zach was gay or anything.

"Okay then," Al said and turned on her Nintendo DS that cost three weeks of her pay. "Don't forget to use protection." Shoving her beanbag at the foot of her bed, she collapsed onto it and waited for the game to load.

"Protection? Oh no!" Tay sounded horrified—which Al thought was pretty concerning, unless Tay was on the pill, _ew, sex, ew_—"I don't want to have sex," Tay whispered again, and Al was pretty certain that the other girl's face was flame red. "I mean, I do one day. But not today. I'm just going to tell him that I really, really, _really _like him."

Oh.

Poor, poor George. He wasn't a jock enough to catch Tay's total interest.

"Ugh. Good luck then?" Al said and cursed when Princess Peach fired a stupid shell at her—Bowser—from behind.

Tay squealed and Al came in second. _Far out._ "I'm so happy, Al! I wasn't sure if you'd be alright with me telling him, and us going out."

Al needed to win this next round and kick a shell up Peach's ass where Mario's sun didn't freakin' shine. "It's all cool, Tay. Be merry! Like each other till your hearts' content!" Shit! That little Toad was beating her!

"Well I'll be getting ready now. Talk to you soon!"

"Yeah, bye!" And her screen flashed Winner, then 1st, as Tay hung up the phone. Boy was she awesome.

* * *

With her father gone for the weekend to go fishing with his colleagues from the university, Al would be left alone for most of the night as Thom usually crashed over at one of his friend's houses after a party. At eight-thirty, a car rolled into the driveway, and Raoul and Gary Naxen came into the house. Since Thom was still in the shower, Al offered them a can of Red Bull each and some potato chips from the pantry.

She was still unfamiliar with Gary, and they hadn't really talked, but he was perusing through the fridge for some dip when he suddenly shouted. "Omagad!" In one smooth jump, he was seated on one of the kitchen benches next to the sink with his feet up as well.

"What the hell?" Al exclaimed, but shut her mouth as soon as she saw the large black, furry spider approaching the open fridge door. With practised ease, she was standing in the middle of her kitchen counter, her can of Red Bull and the packet of chips safely tucked in her arms.

"Kill it, dude!" Gary ordered, his voice rising, but Raoul was already in the living room across from the kitchen on one of the couches. "I can't kill it! I need to look good tonight for Cyth."

"Shit, that thing's _huge_," Raoul breathed in semi-awe, semi-fear, and Al couldn't agree more. That couldn't be a spider. It was more like a—"It looks like a fucking pony's balls, man."

Gary stared at his best friend, bewildered. "How the hell would you know what a pony's balls looks like?"

Raoul shrugged, his large dark form dwarfing Al's living room. Seeing that no one was going to move, Gary toed off his shoe and aimed it at the monster. All three of them whooped with joy when it knocked the spider off its perch on the fridge door. Gary's shoe landed squarely in the middle of the hallway floor, and the spider was gone. Looking at one another all perched on different parts of furniture, Al burst into laughter as her two companions started snickering.

God, they were such sissies.

"Pony's balls," Gary mocked as he jumped down onto the ground and went to collect his shoe. "What was that, bro?"

Raoul laughed. "It just came out of now—"

Al screamed. "It's in your shoe! It's in your shoe!" She screamed (like a girl) again as she saw the black furry monster inside Gary Naxen's Vans.

"What?" Gary asked, holding his shoe and looking confused since he couldn't understand Al. No one could understand Al when she was acting like a girl.

Raoul started scratching his head. "I think she's saying that it's IN YOUR SHOE! Fuck, _it's in your shoe, bro!_"

"We just killed it, man." Gary explained, and lifted his shoe closer to inspect it. "There's no spi—fack! It's in my shoe, man!" He shouted, his voice hysteric as the furry black thing emerged from inside his Vans. "IT'S IN MY SHOE! _Jesus, IT'S IN MY SHOE! _Get it off! OOOOFFFF!_"_

Al jumped up and down and nearly whimpered. "Let go of your shoe, dumbass!"

With a flick of his wrist he threw his Vans (plus spider) towards Al's direction. What an idiot! In an impressive leap, she jumped onto Gary Naxen's back, and tucking her face into the back of his head, she cried. Before the shoe landed, the spider fell onto the floor and started crawling back in the opposite direction towards them. Somehow, amidst her tears and Gary Naxen's string of curses, he maneuvered them to the couch where Raoul had made space for them. From her koala-like clinging on his back, she witnessed as he fought with Raoul over his other shoe.

"Like hell I'm gonna forfeit my other one!" Gary said furiously.

"My shoes weigh a tonne, bro. We won't be able to even lift it, let alone throw it at the thing." Raoul's eyes widened as he peered at Al over Gary's shoulder. "Shit. You're _crying!_"

"I am not!" Al growled, baring her invisible canines, and Raoul gladly jerked backwards.

"Where did it go now?" Gary whispered, and Al moved off his back and muttered a terse thanks. "Eh, no worries," he waved his hand. "Just don't do that again. _Fucking_ scared me. I mean its bad enough when a chick jumps on you and cries over a rat, but when Al Trebond jumps on your back and cries, like a chick, over a spider… that's almost—" he shuddered.

"It's over there," Raoul spoke and pointed towards the kitchen. "It looks like its going back to the fri…"

And her kitty was suddenly there, the spider half squished under his small claws. With one swipe on his tongue, her pet digested the monster and would probably finish with a burp. A few seconds of silence descended upon the house, and the crunching sound of her kitten's chewing seemed to reverberate around the room. Al looked at her pet with a new light. Gary scrumpled his nose in disgust and concern, while Raoul suddenly pounded Al's shoulder. "Your cat's the bomb, Trebond! The _bomb._"

A large slam suddenly sounded and all three of them jumped in surprise. A grumbling could be heard coming down the stairs, and Al and her companions moved towards each other. Her cat suddenly hissed loudly and scrambled up to Al's lap with his hair standing on end. A little freaked out, the four of them watched the stairs in baited breath, until Thom emerged, his hair no longer blond, but a dark chocolate brown.

"Your hair!" she accused her twin, oblivious to Thom's shock in not only seeing his friends huddled pathetically on the couch, facing away from the tv, but also that his tomboy of a sister was squished in between them like a motorbike stuck between two 4WDs.

"Do I want to know?" Thom asked with a sigh. Her pet only replied by hissing at her brother.

After the excitement of the evening died down, the guys left the house to go to Gwyn's party. Raoul patted her cat before leaving, calling him a "Champ", and Gary nodded at her before he left, wearing a pair of black flip-flops he had found in their shoe rack.

Al snorted. Go figure.

* * *

Al fed her cat some tuna that she found, and made an omelet for herself for dinner. Turning off all the lights except for the one in the living room, she put in Two and a Half Men into the DVD player. Her father called once, to check up on them, which Al found weird because he hardly ever did when he was actually away in another country for a few months. When she hung up, she used her phone and called Tay.

The other girl picked up after the sixth ring. "What is it, Al?"

"Are you okay? You haven't been raped and are now lying in some shady dark alley, are you?" Al demanded, and reached for more Maltesers.

"I'm fine! Thanks for checking up on me."

Al frowned. "Why the heck are you whispering? I can't hear you. Speak louder."

"Um, we're in the middle of the movie and he was just about to puthisarmonthebackofmyseatto_hug_me when you called."

Al nodded and put the volume lower. "So what movie are you watching?"

"The Day the Earth Stood Still. Um, Al…"

"Oh cool. You can watch that kind of movie on dates? I thought you watched things like romantic comedies or pornos."

"_Al!_ You don't watch," and Tay's voice dropped so low Al almost missed it, "pornos on dates."

Al rolled her eyes. "You're such a prude, Tay."

"Better a prude than a tomboy."

"Ouch. Whatever."

"Al, I have to go… you're kind of interrupting our date," her friend was so polite it almost hurt. Laughing, Al let her go and settled back to watch.

* * *

Around eleven, Al heard the unmistakable slamming of car doors and the voices of high school boys ascending her driveway. Jumping onto the other couch, she peeked through the curtains and saw her brother, Raoul and Gary walking to the front door.

Looking back at the clock, she stayed still for a second in disbelief. They usually partied until two or three in the morning, and usually crashed at Raoul's or Alex's houses. Raoul's dad and stepmom were pretty lenient, and Alex's parents didn't give a shit if their son invited friends or not. Come to think of it, Mr and Mrs Tirragen never gave a shit about Alex.

"Al?" Her brother called.

She sighed. "I'm in the living room."

"Hey why are there no lights besides in here?" Raoul asked, but didn't wait for an answer as he collapsed onto the recliner. "Damn, this is nice. It was getting way too crowded at Gwyn's."

"We've got spare pillows, right?" Thom asked, and she nodded. "Can you get them for us?"

"How many do you need?"

"Not many. Gary and Cyth are going home, but Alex, Raoul and Jon are staying here."

Jon Conte? He was there, too?

"Oh, hey Al!" Cythera's voice carried into the room. When Al grunted in reply, she found Cythera and Jon Conte carrying two boxes of pizza into the room. Alex followed behind them with a plastic bag full of drinks in his hand. She thought Cythera would have stayed at her best friend's party, but the girl only blushed and told Al that her and Gary would be having their own pizza night at his house. After a chorus of goodbyes, the two left, but not before the other guys whistled and cat-called behind them.

Al trudged up the stairs and turned on the hallway light. Opening the linen closet, she was reaching for the pillows when she heard a male voice. "Al?"

"I'm in here. A little help, please!"

The footsteps came closer and Jon Conte's cologne invaded her nostrils. She turned to face him. "Hey, do you reckon you could grab those pillows for me? I can't reach."

"Sure," he said, and in one smooth move, the door shut behind him and bathed them in pitch blackness.

She groaned. "What the hell? Great! We need light."

"What we need," she could smell the alcohol on his breath, "is this."

Without giving her time to breathe, his arms locked around her and his warm, chapped lips smashed onto hers.

Holy_ shit._

* * *

**Author's Note:** Extra long chapter! About the swear words.. they'll become more frequent, especially since the more characters become involved in Al's day to day life, the more she gets exposed to those kind of things. Lastly, my appreciation to **.14karatgold.**


	5. That Drunken Disastrous Episode

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Five: That Drunken Disastrous Episode**

* * *

When Danny Vitagliano had smacked his sticky lips against hers in seventh grade, his breath had tasted like chewing gum. It had been unexpected, clumsy and had made her heart hammer so hard in her chest that she was afraid that she'd accidentally bite him. Their lips had stayed pressed together in one frozen position for twelve long seconds. When they drew apart, Danny had grinned, taken a deep breath and pressed his forehead against hers. The reward he got for taking her first kiss was to receive a whopping headbutt that landed them both in the nurse's office.

But unlike the minty taste of gum, Jon Conte's kiss _smelled_ like alcohol. His lips moved intensely against hers, and she found herself frozen once again while the uncomfortable exchange of foul air occurred between them. Al's eyes were wide open in the dark, and realising what was happening, she clenched her teeth together. When Jon Conte's hands moved towards her shorts, she curled both fists around his shirt and shoved him as hard as she could.

"Wha—ugh!"

He slammed against the wall with a loud thud. Following shortly, she heard the sound of a body sliding down against the wall of the closet. Silence followed, and all Al could hear was her own raspy breathing. He had just pawed her! When Jon Conte didn't say anything after a minute, Al refroze in panic. Why wasn't he saying anything? Didn't guys usually start taunting girls after something like this happened? They'd swagger something lewd and overused like, "Aw, I never knew you liked it so rough."

A horrendous thought crossed her mind. What if she had injured the guy? Or worse… killed him?

She poked her toe into what she assumed was his leg. "Oi!" No movement. When she repeated it three times and didn't even get a twitch or a breath of response, she started to feel a tad uneasy.

Crawling towards him, she felt around until she reached his neck. With no light in there, how was she supposed to check if he was alive? She didn't know any first aid! And there was no way in hell she'd be considering CPR. Wait… she didn't know CPR either. Groping blindly to her right, she started banging on the closet door. "Help! Thom! Dammit, open the door!" Pounding her fists harder, she gritted her teeth. "Hey! Open the door! Thoooom!"

Moving her attention back to Jon Conte, she sat on him and grabbed his shoulders. She shook him as best she could. "Wake up, man! Hey! Are you still alive? If you are… you better pretend to be dead, or else _I'll kill you! _You pervert." When she received no reply, she closed her eyes and counted to ten to try and relax herself.

Trying to remember anything she had learnt in Health class or in practise, she leaned forward until her ear was directly in front of his mouth and nose._ Yeah, so professional, Al._

* * *

The door suddenly swung open as Al was trying to detect if Jon Conte was still breathing. The sudden assault of bright light from the hallway caused her to shut her eyes and turn away.

"What did you do, Al?" A horrified whisper broke into the scene.

"_Tay?_" Al opened her eyes quickly to find her friend standing in front of the closet, her mouth agape. "Er, what are you doing here? Aren't you suppose to be on your—never mind. Quick, help me!"

But Tay was rooted to her spot, her eyes staring fiercely at Al's hands. Looking down, Al saw that they had moved closer to Jon Conte's throat when she had leaned forward to check if he was breathing. If she squeezed her fingers, she'd ultimately be choking the God. _Good, _a voice in her brain approved and Al was nearly tempted until Tay started talking again.

"I didn't know you hated boys," and Tay's throat convulsed here as she crumpled a fistful of her white dress, "_that _much. Omigod, Al… is that Jonathan Conte?"

Al nodded. "I don't hate boys," she pointed out. 99.97% of her friends were male, or was it 97%?

Tay took a deep breath. "Alright, Al. He isn't—oh God, I don't think he's breathing—Al… let go of his neck. Gently." The heck. Why was Tay talking to her as if she was a baby?

Al tightened her grip in response.

"Listen to me. You have to let go of him, or else—"

"Let go of him?" Alex's voice echoed. A few seconds later, Al saw his white shoes next to Tay's strappy white heels.

His green eyes looked shocked. "Whoa. Al, man, did you…?" Alex shook his dark head, and turned to Tay. "Tay, why don't you go downstairs and get Thom?"

Giving Al and Jon Conte one last worried look, Tay turned and ran down the stairs. Al, dazed and irritated, allowed herself to be confused. _She didn't do anything! _Looking down at the God, she clenched her jaw. _He was the one who mauled her._ If she scraped her nails down his face, would it leave bleeding scars? Hmm, Principal Conte would probably give her a semester's worth of detentions, or worse, suspend her.

She and Alex heard Thom's vexed voice coming closer. When he reached the crime scene—yep, _she _could have been raped or something if she hadn't acted quickly—her twin gasped loudly and nearly had a coronary. She supposed it might have been the sight of his sister straddling his unconscious friend, but what did she know? She heard more steps coming up the stairs and it might have been Raoul, but her body had suddenly drifted into a daze. Jon Conte was underneath Al Trebond. Jon Conte had kissed Al Trebond. Jon Conte smelt like alcohol. Al Trebond had no idea why she was referring to herself in third person.

Her whole body was frozen, but her mind kept playing small facts like a dumb mantra. Rape is a crime. Murder is a crime. Which was worse?

"What happened?" She heard Raoul ask, but no one replied.

Thom moved closer and touched her arm. "Al, what the heck are you doing?" Looking down at his friend, Thom nearly panicked. "He's unconscious. Get up, Al, or you might block his air."

"Was she trying to kill him or something?" Raoul asked in the background, his voice shaking.

Alex whispered, "I dunno. Al's not like that. Maybe he said something and she…no, but he's drunk." A pause, then a nervous suggestion, "You don't think he…?"

"Al, get up," a familiar voice ruffed, and she looked up amidst the weird beating in her chest as she sat on Jon Conte's belly.

"George?"

"Get up, Al."

Staring down at Jon Conte's dry lips, she shook her head. "I can't. My legs won't move."

Thom sighed. "She's in shock, George."

_Shock? _Her?! Please. She was so ready to kill Jon Conte, whether or not he was the Principal's son. Would God send her to hell? She could probably beat Satan at arm wrestling. God would just make her feel horribly guilty…

Gently, she felt George's arm slide under her armpits, and he lifted her up and away until she was sitting in the hallway. She watched as Alex, Raoul and Thom swarmed around Jon Conte in the closet. Looking to her companion, she scratched her nose.

George laid the back of his hand on her forehead. "You alright, princess?"

"I'm great," Al said, wondering who the hell had taken over her body and forced a giant rubber thingy down her throat.

George looked troubled. "What happened? Did you get into a fight?"

Something kept her mouth closed. It was probably that dry, scratchy rubber ball blocking her vocal chords. And she could still smell the alcohol. It was awful. She ignored George's questions, and her eyes locked onto Alex's. His emerald eyes were tired, but a small hint of amusement touched their depths. "Jon's drunk, Al. He's passed out from the alcohol, though he did seem alright earlier."

Thom looked at his sister. "There's a bump at the back of his head, but he's breathing and there's no blood. No seizures or anything, either. He should be up in about ten minutes, I'm guessing."

Al rolled her eyes from her rag-doll position in the hallway. Why was Thom so smart? Raoul and Thom supported an unconscious Jon Conte and dragged him downstairs. The rubber ball inside her throat suddenly vanished, and Al took a deep breath of fresh air. With the alcoholic gone, Al's mind cleared and she was able to focus on everything else. When George went to pat her shoulder, she slapped his arm away, and sanity returned.

"That douche just smooched me!" She fumed, "He's stupider than I thought. No one touches me, let alone gets to put _any_ part of their lips on _mine._" Not understanding where the strength in her throat or her legs came from, she jumped up and turned to stalk down the hallway. "Who cares if he was drunk?" she ranted. _So much for him being as cool as a cucumber. He was more like a capsicum! _"He shouldn't have been drunk in the first place. Completely irresponsible! And what the heck was with '_this_ is what we need'! Tsh, no wonder boys aren't worth my time. I've got more balls than they do."

Screeching to a halt in the living room, she stared accusingly as Thom and Raoul deposited Jon Conte onto the couch. Tay, who had been watching the guys, leaned over and fluffed the pillows to make Jon Conte more comfortable. Al's stomach twisted when she saw the strands of Tay's soft feminine hair tickle Jon Conte's boyish face. They fit together even better than Delia and Jon Conte did.

Raising her chin, she turned back to the stairs, bypassed George and Alex and fled into her room. Slamming the door shut, she locked it and turned on her CD player. Crawling to the window, she did what she had always done when Thom had his friends over.

She ignored them.

* * *

By two weeks time, Al had perfected disregarding Jon Conte. She had been doing it for years and so it was no trouble resuming the habit once again. He had apologised the day after The Event happened—as Al had come to call it—and she had accepted it gracefully. It took her a couple of days' worth of thinking after to put it at the back of her mind. It was an accidental, drunken kiss by a boy who had just found out from his parents that he was getting engaged.

When Al found out _that_ tid bit of information, she couldn't not forgive him.

Seeing the bitterness that now lurked in his eyes made her feel guilty. She had known before him and hadn't said anything.

But she owed him no loyalty. She wasn't his friend, and he certainly wasn't hers. Thom and Raoul had all but threatened her if she so much as told a soul about Jon Conte's impending engagement. As far as Al knew, only Raoul, Gary, Alex and Thom had been informed, and now her. Even Cythera wasn't in the know. Al squirmed every time any of those guys—save for Alex—gave her a meaningful stare when they passed.

How she went from being the victim who got kissed to the little culprit who might tattle to everyone about Jon Conte's arranged marriage, she had no idea. All she knew was that she would be avoiding Jon Conte and his ironically trustworthy friends for the rest of her life. Exactly what was so good about the school's god that everyone felt the need to protect him or to crush on him?

In Al's eyes, Jon Conte was a rich, brooding boy with a pretty face, a working brain and a personality that was privy to everyone except those who were very close to him. For god's sake, all she knew about him were four things: his name, his family's reputation, his academic record, and the fact that he owned a bright orange umbrella large enough to cover the girl's volleyball team.

* * *

It was on a Tuesday in the fourth week of school that The Occurrence (which worse than even The Event) happened.

Al held three textbooks and a couple of print outs as she made her way to the desk that Doug had staked after a fifteen minute wait. The local library was oddly full that afternoon and Al had spied a couple students there that also went to their school. When she sat down, Doug shook his head whimsically.

"What?" she asked, as she read through the contents of the first book.

"I can't believe you're actually studying."

She paused. "I don't want any detentions or low marks to affect my playing volley or swimming. I want to join the soccer team next year, too."

"I think its good that you're focusing on studying," Doug said. "Now I can have someone to study with."

"So long as you provide the food afterwards," she reminded him. He only sighed.

Al read about how the three monotheistic religions of the world—Judaism, Christianity and Islam—all believed in the one god; Yahweh, God or Allah. She familiarised herself with making the distinctions between all three, and even followed Alex's suggestion of using cram cards. Every time Al saw the word "God", she couldn't help but replay the feeling of Jon Conte's drunken kiss. She found herself pondering on the "what if" had the light been on. Jon Conte wouldn't have escaped that night with only a bump on the back of his head.

A tiny, microscopically infinitesimal part of Al mulled over one fact. _Why did her first proper kiss have to be the product of alcohol?_ Was she that…despicable as a girl that a guy would have to be inebriated to kiss her?

No! What was she doing? She couldn't be thinking like this. The _real_ part of her slammed down the walls that led to any further thinking in that direction. Man, she was going crazy. Thinking that she'd read enough, she slammed the book shut. Taking a deep breath, she pinched the soft flesh between her thumb and index finger. Her mind cleared and she looked across only to find Doug's nose practically touching the textbook.

Well someone was an eager beaver to get that 4.0 GPA.

Amazed at how different she was to her best friend, she pulled out her wallet. "Oi, you want something from the vendor machine?"

He looked up at her. "You're already hungry?"

"I need a break. All that studying is getting to my brain." She was just the expert on excuses, wasn't she?

"Dude, it's only been like a little over five minutes," he whispered, incredulous.

Whatever. "So do you want something or not?"

"Nah. Go eat and make sure you actually come back," he waved his hand in dismissal.

Rolling her eyes—a gesture she did by tradition—she made her way to the first level. She was relieved when she saw that no one was at the snack vendor. Seeing that she only had three dollars, she eliminated all the expensive choices. Three minutes later, she had narrowed her choices down to Snickers, M&Ms and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Snickers was very rich, but too filling. M&M's were very light, but not filling enough. Reese's were a treat for her, but it was both too rich and not filling enough.

Decisions, decisions. Maybe she shouldn't get Snickers because she ate it a lot anyway… _but_ it was cheaper than the other two by fifty cents. Hmm.

She wasn't a tightwad, though.

Fine.

M&Ms or Reese's? With M&Ms she could take it back upstairs with her and nibble on them individually as she studied. Reese's were slightly more messier, yet they tasted better. Which one would she get? If she got M&Ms, she'd have to be nice and offer some to Doug. If she got Reese's then she'd be treating herself to the better chocolate.

Reese's it was then.

"Are ya finished yet?" A young, high-pitched and annoyed voice demanded.

Turning around, Al found a small girl staring back at her. Why the little—"Uh, yeah, I've chosen. Geez." Huffing, Al put her money in and punched the item number rather violently. She watched as the chocolate moved forward and dropped to the bottom. When she whirled around to leave, the little brat suddenly started hiccuping.

Irked, Al slowed down. The girl's huge eyes were filling with tears. Darting forward, Al bent down and patted the girl on the head awkwardly. Instead of shutting up, the brat pushed Al's hand away and glared at her. "You took tha last MNMs!"

Al clenched the packet tighter to her chest in instinct. "Listen kid, there are plenty of other chocolates you can get from the machine. These are mine," she explained.

"But I want that one!"

Al could feel the growl forming in her throat. "Too bad! I was here first and _I_ paid for them. They're _mine._" Why the hell was there a three year old kid in the library anyway?

"Vera?"

At the voice, Al saw a tall boy with long, black shaggy hair walk over to them quickly. The first thing Al noticed was that he was very tan and very tall. Ugh, he was probably the same age as her. Way too young to be a father! And why was everyone around her so damn tall?!

"There you are. Why are you taking so long?" As if only noticing Al's presence then, he scratched the back of his head. "Er, hello. I hope Vera wasn't being annoying or anything."

She opened her mouth to say something, but the little girl beat her to it. "She took tha last MNMs, Nummy! And she's not giving it to me. I want it, Nummy!" She stomped her foot and took his hand to emphasise.

The boy reddened and ducked his head. "Sorry about that. She doesn't understand that she can't get everything. Anyway," he bent down to the girl. "Vera, that's rude. I'll get you somethin' else, okay?"

Suddenly the girl nodded, and then burst into giggles as she threw her short arms around the boy's neck. If it was possible to blush even more, the boy did. Al stood there with her M&Ms still hugged to her chest as she watched the little she-devil turn into an angel. She even apologised to Al when the boy told her to.

"I'm sorry, missus. I was rude," then waving her Starbursts up like a trophy; she exposed her missing front tooth. "My name is Daine and I'm a _whole _five years old! Not _Veraaaa_ like Nummy always calls me. He's so silly!"

Oh god. Another Josaine or Delia in the making. Clearly, the little girl had a gigantic crush on her… older brother? Babysitter? Friend? The boy answered her. "Oh! Right, she's my neighbour's kid."

Aw, how _cute!_

Not.

"Well I've got to go," Al stated and gestured towards the upper levels. Doug was probably wondering if she really had left or not. "Later."

"Byyyyye missus!" The little girl's voice followed after her, and Al walked that little bit faster.

The kid was almost as annoying as Bugaboo J Faithful Trebond, her newly-named kitten who had finally shown his true colours and bugged the hell out of her. He usually stalked Al when she wanted peace (Bug), and always appeared like a black shadow out of nowhere (Boo). According to Thom and her father, the prissy feline was only good when Jon Conte, his saviour, came around the house (J). But despite the cat's absurd behaviour, he never failed to follow Al around, or cease annoying and freaking her out. She just had to add this bizarre but endearing loyalty to his name. So came about Bugaboo J Faithful Trebond.

Everyone just called him Bug.

Al suspected her pet hated the name, but he had come to answer to it with his tail held high like a damn drama queen. He expected royal treatment, and if Al didn't follow through with it, then it was guaranteed that she'd find another destroyed pillow or another pair of her Chucks totally clawed out.

Shaking her head, she collapsed onto her chair and blew out an exasperated breath. She ripped the M&Ms packet and offered some to Doug. He declined and pulled out a Chupa Chup from his backpack.

"You bitch," Al accused. "Why didn't you offer me one?"

Doug raised a brow. "Al, I only have one. It's strawberry flavour."

Oh, right, good point. Al hated anything that was pink. "Eh. M&Ms are so much better."

"All the more reason." He shrugged. "So what's the agenda for tonight?"

Al propped her chin on her hand. "Dinner with the Contes again. This is like the fourth time, I think. Last time I couldn't make it since I had squad, but they ate over at our house. I had some of the left over steak that Dad made the next day." She picked out all the green M&Ms first. "I tried to get out of this one, but Dad threw a fit and ordered that I be there tonight."

"Sounds like it'll be awesome," Doug joked.

"Har har, Veldine. It'll probably be a boring affair. But you know what's weird? Dad let Thom off the hook tonight when Thom pleaded homework. But when I tried, he told me to shut up and just be ready by six-thirty. No wonder I despise the man."

Her best friend squirmed. "I have a funny feeling about this."

"What do you mean?" Al ignored the people at the next table who were staring at her picking out the red M&Ms.

"I'd give anything to be a fly on the wall to see how the parents will react when you and your friend Jon ignore the hell out of each other."

"Don't tell me that Zach is rubbing off on you."

"That faggot? No!" Doug looked offended. "I just think it's funny. Don't you?"

* * *

Two hours later, Al thought it was anything but funny. She was currently in the car with her father as they drove the twenty minutes into the neighbouring suburb of Tusaine. The logic of driving to another town for dinner didn't appeal to Al. There were some perfectly good Italian and Thai restaurants in Corus. Not to mention the chain of fast food eateries and fancy bistros—but the Contes probably liked to dine in style regardless if they were entertaining or not. Looking out the window at the passing scenery, Al speculated when Principal Conte and Mrs Conte would be announcing Jon Conte's engagement. She didn't dare ask her father about it, in case she found herself facing the threat that Raoul Goldenlake probably had no qualms about carrying through.

Why was it so hush hush, though?

Had Jon Conte even met the girl yet? How about Delia? Surely, she fit into the equation somewhere. And it couldn't be Tay, because Tay and George… Al didn't even want to go there. Those two were so 'in love' Al could almost puke from all the pheromones in the air when they were around.

They reached The Pine Garden Restaurant shortly after. As she followed her father in, the smell of champagne from a passing waiter reached her nose and she recalled the feel of Jon Conte's dry, hot lips pressed against hers. _This is insane, _she thought furiously. It was like a bloody nightmare each time something triggered her memory. She mumbled a hostile thanks to the usher, and observed her surroundings. There were lavish red leather seats and booths around gold tables, and potted green ferns in every corner.

Most of the people eating there were dressed poshly, and Al became semi-conscious of her modest white pants and purple shirt. She frowned when she saw her father's trembling hands smooth down his green tie. Unlike her, Alan Trebond fit right in. It wasn't a surprise to see her father decked in a full black suit. He often wore suits when he went to work. But the nervousness that radiated off him bothered her. Her father was cool and collected, and often strict in his demeanour.

Lianne Conte clasped Al's hand firmly and gave her the brightest smile Al had ever been bestowed with. "Alanna! How wonderful to see you again!" The older woman's other hand patted Al's fore-arm gently and laughed a little. "I'm so glad you made it tonight."

Principal Conte nodded at Al. "You haven't come to visit me, Al."

"Oh, uh, I've been busy, sir," she managed weakly. The bright lights and jazzy music were getting to her. She watched as her father exchanged greetings with everyone before they were all seated in the U-shaped booth. She and Jon Conte sat on the ends, with their parents in the middle. It was classy and intimate—the perfect ingredients that made Al uncomfortable down to her bones.

Keeping her eyes on everything but Jon Conte, the gold and red theme of the restaurant oddly reminded her of the rings that her father was researching. She never understood why George had said that her father had wanted them in her room. Her attention was suddenly jolted when Jon Conte abruptly sucked in a shocked breath, curled his hands into fists and sat up so straight that a steel pole would have looked bent. Stunned, she looked up and met his fierce stare for the first time in more than a week.

What was wrong with him? Their families had had dinner—admittedly strangely and randomly—a couple times together already. Was it because Thom wasn't there to buffer the tension? Or was he thinking about that drunken disastrous episode they had in her linen closet after he found out about his engagement?

"What's wrong Jon?" His mother asked nervously.

He didn't look at her, though. He was still staring at Al, disbelief clearly etched in his face. "It's _you,_" he whispered.

Me what?

Unnerved, Al turned her face away and stared at anything her eyes could find. It latched onto a couple three booths down who was sharing a plate of pasta between them. The woman suddenly lifted her left hand and tucked her hair behind her ear as she leaned in for a mouthful. The glint of the massive diamond on her fourth finger beckoned Al's concentration like a moth to a flame.

It's _you._

A horrifying conclusion dawned on her as pieces of the puzzle suddenly revealed themselves. Dinner with the Contes, _I would really appreciate it if you and Jon could become very good friends_, the rings delivered for her father, _just different and very stubborn_, Thom's absence, and the reason behind a drunken kiss in the dark.

"You've got to be _kidding_ me."

* * *

**Author's Note: **You guys have blown me away. Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed Chapter 4! Acknowledgements to **.14karatgold.** and Kristine; Bugaboo's for you!


	6. HOT OFF THE PRESS

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Six: Hot Off the Press**

* * *

_pennybabe66 has logged on_

**pennybabe66:** hey lori  
**miss_violet:** hi penny  
**pennybabe66:** he still a no show?  
**miss_violet:** jon? yep! i wonder where he is  
**pennybabe66:** he might be sick, though he looked absolutely fine yesterday ;) if you know what i mean  
**miss_violet:** oh i know. but this is strange. we usually know where he is when he doesn't come to school… which isn't often anyway  
**pennybabe66:** even his friends look worried  
**miss_violet:** did gary say anything?  
**pennybabe66:** if he did, i don't really care. as if I'd talk to him anyway, the cheater!  
**miss_violet:** aww honey. you're doing the right thing ignoring the bastard. but hey I'll talk to you later  
**pennybabe66:** ok! later hun. i'll see if I can dig up any goss before 5th period  
**miss_violet:** me too! bye xox

_miss_violet has logged off_

-

**From:** Gary (monkeysex)  
**To: **me (rocker_2000)  
**Date: **Wed, Sep 9, 2008 at 11:26 AM  
**Subject:** Oy

Raoul,

Has Jon called you yet? He was supposed to be in Gym but he didn't show. I tried calling him on his cell because we had the Fitness Test today in 2nd period and he needed to be there, but he wasn't picking up. He hasn't replied either.

Gary

-

**From:** rocker_2000  
**To:** monkeysex  
**Subject:** RE: Oy  
**Date:** Wed, 9 Sep 2008, 11:34:02

Nah he didn't. Is something up? I heard some of the girls saying he was probably late, but if he hasn't showed then he must be sick or something. Appointment? Who knows. Delia's looking for him, though. I think Roger's in town and she wants to tell him.

Hey man, I gotta go. The batt is running low on my laptop. We'll see if he turns up for the lunch period.

-

_dougie has logged on  
g_meron_913 has logged on_

**zachzilla:** ma bruhtherrz  
**dougie: **what class you in, wellam?  
**zachzilla:** economics, total bore. where's my flamingo at?  
**dougie:** we're wondering the same thing. she didn't show up for homeroom. where were you anyway?  
**zachzilla:** was late coz gary and cythera had a little too much fun last night, so I had to wait a long time before they were ready to go to school… the horny fiends  
**g_meron_913:** Thom's looking for Al too. He said she skipped out half-way through dinner last night with the Contes and her father is absolutely furious. Al messaged Thom that she'd see him in the morning, but she hasn't shown up.  
**zachzilla:** strange. something probably happened and it pissed her off  
**dougie:** it sounds like her. i tried calling to find out if she was coming to school today but her cell's off. she could be at george's  
**zachzilla:** what did jon say?  
**g_meron_913:** I never thought to ask. I'll ask Raoul – we're in the same class next.  
**zachzilla:** sat night should be awesome!  
**g_meron_913:** Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that. Who's going to drive?  
**zachzilla: **hell not me. i'm planning to get drunk off my ass so i don't have to hear gary and cythera going at it like rabbits two doors down  
**dougie: **i don't mind but you'll have to find your own way home. i'm leaving early  
**g_meron_913:** Hot date, Veldine? I thought you were a nerd.  
**dougie:** i ain't a nerd  
**zachzilla: **thank god you're finally going to get some. halleh-fuckin-loooyaah!

-

Hey George, it's Doug. Have you seen Al? She hasn't shown up at school yet.

_9 Sep. 2008 11:58AM  
TXT from: Doug Veldine_

-

**Date:** Wed, 9 Sep 2008 12:21:32**  
From:** Roald Conte  
**To**: Gareth Naxen  
**Subject: **Important Notice

Gareth,

I've just arrived in Port Legann. I'll be here for the next few days and won't return to Corus until Saturday. I almost forgot that the Independent Education Board Conference was scheduled for this week.

Nearly forgetting about it was a major mistake on my part, since—as Lianne already informed you last night—we told Jon and Alanna Trebond about the engagement. Like we all anticipated; they didn't receive the news well. Alanna disappeared from the restaurant in Tusaine about 30 minutes in, and from what I've heard, she didn't return home. It doesn't surprise me. I know her nature from firsthand experience.

Jon has also gone missing, however, he called his mother two hours ago. He took the Porsche up to our holiday cabin in Forster. I'm not sure when he'll be back, but it's better not to push him. At least we know where he is. If I could have declined this conference, I would have. I left at an unfortunate time. And as a result, I'll be asking you another favour that will probably give you a major headache. My apologies in advance.

No doubt the rumours will soon spread in school. I plan to make a public and official announcement early next week. The best thing we can do at this moment, is not to say anything at all. Allow the students to speculate; but ensure that any concerning behaviour or talk will be addressed and prohibited. I can't fathom now how Jon or Alanna will cope with the onslaught when they get to school, but giving them leeway is probably the best. I already discussed with them during dinner last night exactly how they are to proceed.

Their current absence is understandable. They'll need time to "cool off".

At the present moment, we've decided not to release this particular information to anyone. This does include Thomas (Alanna's brother), and also Gary, Raoul, Alexander, and any other of their friends. I am aware that these four boys know that Jon is engaged; but to whom is what they don't know. I trust that you will honour this request.

If there are any pressing problems, just drop an email or call Daniel on 0441260321. I'll try to reply as soon as I can.

Regards,  
Roald

-

Doug, I haven't seen her. She's probably sick or lazy. I'll try calling her.

_9 Sep. 2008 12:26PM  
TXT from: George_

-

**gwyngal:** jon's only been absent for a couple periods and all the girls are already getting their knickers in a twist  
**venus_c18:** 'knickers in a twist'? that's funny!  
**gwyngal:** i've always wanted to use that phrase, haha. but seriously. they're all wondering where he is. poor guy. he can't catch a break, can he?  
**venus_c18: **it's his fault for being so good looking. what I find weird is that no one has any idea why he's not at school. usually someone always finds out… *shudders* those psycho stalker groupies that adore him would already be sending him flowers if he was sick or anything  
**gwyngal:** that's true. but we're talking about him too. does that make us groupies?  
**venus_c18:** no. we're being concerned friends. jon usually tells one of the guys if he's going to be away

_miss_violet has logged in_

**miss_violet:** hey cythera! hey gwyn!  
**venus_c18:** hey lori  
**gwyngal:** greetings earthling!  
**miss_violet:** have you girls heard anything about jon?  
**gwyngal: **sorry, hun. we're in the same boat as you are  
**miss_violet:** aww, that's ok! i guess we're all just suffering from jon withdrawal lol**  
gwyngal:** you've got that right! and how can you be suffering from it? I heard you and francis were getting hot and heavy ;p  
**miss_violet:** maybe lol. but he's a total cutie!  
**venus_18:** must be aphrodite's doing, huh, lori? all that studying together for ancient history…  
**miss_violet:** you should know! your name is cythera anyway  
**gwyngal:** that's why she's always getting it on with gary. her name relates to the goddess of love anyway  
**venus_18: **i do not "always get it on" with gary!  
**miss_violet:** aphrodite is the goddess of sexual attraction and not necessarily love  
**gwyngal:** ooh… step back. we have a historian here, haha

_monkeysex has logged in_

**monkeysex:** something is going on!  
**venus_c18:** what are you talking about?  
**monkeysex:** jon! not only has he not been answering or returning any of our calls… i just overheard my dad in his office telling someone that jon took his porsche and that they aren't expecting him to come home or to school for a while. WTF!  
**venus_c18:** what, so he's going to be away for a while?  
**gwyngal:** did mr naxen say where jon took his car to?  
**monkeysex:** fuck! i don't know. all i know is that we have our first game on friday night and he needs to come to practise. he better be there on friday!

_miss_violet has logged off_

-

Sorry it's taken me a while to txt back. I'm filling in for someone at work and I'm not used to daytime shifts. Anyway, I called Al about 4 times but her cell's turned off. I just heard from Thom that she's missing.

_Sep 9. 2008 01:08PM  
TXT from: George_

-

Hey babe. Has Al called you or anything? She didn't come home last night.

_Sep 9. 2008 01:10PM  
TXT from: G_

-

That's terrible! But no, I haven't heard from her sorry. I hope she's alright. Tell me if something comes up, ok? Class just started. XOXOXOX

_Sep 9. 2008 01:13PM  
TXT from: Taylor Wilima_

-

**From:** jconte_x**  
To: **alextiger69, monkeysex, rocker_2000, thtrebond**  
Subject: **Hey**  
Date: **Wed, 9 Sep 2008, 14:45:59

I'm alive. Something came up. I'll be gone for a few days. Coach will be telling you the new strategies.

Jon

-

Have you heard from Jon where Al is?

_9 Sep. 2008 03:12PM  
TXT from: Thom_

-

Al is missing?

_9 Sep. 2008 03:18PM  
TXT from: Gary_

-

She didn't come home last night. And Jon didn't show up to school, either.

_9 Sep. 2008 03:21PM  
TXT from: Thom_

-

Shit. I'll ask around then. But Jon's alright I think. He just emailed us so check your inbox later. What happened last night?

_9 Sep. 2008 03:24PM  
TXT from: Gary_

-

That's the thing. I wasn't at dinner. Something clearly happened. My dad hasn't said anything about it except that he was pissed at Al. Msg me if you hear anything. I've got tutoring now.

_9 Sep. 2008 03:29PM  
TXT from: Thom_

-

**zachzilla: **still no al?  
**g_meron_913:** Nope. Doug's at squad so I don't know if he's got any news.  
**zachzilla:** do you think it's got to do with the dinner with the contes?  
**g_meron_913:** Didn't she say she was alright with them?  
**zachzilla:** yeah, but jon wasn't at school either today. that's damn fishy if you ask me. i just found out from gary this afternoon that jon's going to be gone for a while. and my flamingo is MIA too…  
**g_meron_913:** Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?  
**zachzilla: **=D they're probably releasing all that sexual tension in a secluded forest somewhere. totally wild!  
**g_meron_913:** Dude, there's something wrong with you. Secluded forest? What the hell! And what sexual tension? Those two are about as cold as ice blocks.  
**zachzilla: **stop bursting my bubble, meron. you need to get laid as much as doug does. you two are such little virgin whores

-

Hi Al. I was just wondering if you were alright. People are looking for you. xo Tay

_9 Sep. 2008 06:22PM  
TXT from: Tay_

-

**From: **Thom (thtrebond)**  
To: **jconte_x**  
Subject: **RE: Hey**  
Date:** Wed, 9 Sep 2008, 20:36:51

Hey Jon,

What's going on? Obviously I missed whatever it was since I wasn't at dinner last night. Did Al say or do something offending? Dad was really pissed at her and she didn't come home until an hour ago. The two of them had a massive, but extremely short, shouting match before she stormed upstairs and locked herself in there. If she did, I'm sorry. Your mom came by earlier this afternoon around 5, but she looked worried about Al. I'm guessing whatever it was had to do with you only.

I'd really appreciate it if you could reply back. For all I know, she might not have any relation whatsoever as to why you weren't at school today.

Later, Thom

-

**From:** Jon (jconte_x)  
**To: **thtrebond  
**Subject: **RE: RE: Hey  
Thursday, 10 March, 2008 1:02:11 AM

She didn't say anything offending. Don't worry about it. Things are a little confusing at the moment, so I'm not entirely sure what to say. Everything will probably be explained when things get a little clearer. Sorry.

-

**Corus High's Gossip Column  
The latest HOT GOSS brought to you by Miri & Dee**

Thursday, 10th September  
2:18pm by Dee

Seems like our god, Jon Conte, has been sick from food poisoning! According to our sources, Jon and his family were eating at The Pine Garden Restaurant in Tusaine on Tuesday night. While his parents remain poison-free, Jon's sexy midnight-blue Porsche Boxster is said to be parked somewhere at a cabin up north. If any of you willing peeps want to try and spot it… good luck! You know where to report to if and when you see it: right here (www . corusgoss . com)!

P.S. Don't forget his Get Well present!

-

**Corus High's Gossip Column  
The latest HOT GOSS brought to you by Miri & Dee**

Thursday, 10th September  
2:44pm by Dee

RED HOT!! Do you remember the short-lived and shocking news a few weeks ago about Jon and the infamous tomboy, Al Trebond? Guess what you'll never believe! Fellow blogger **Jackie**'s cousin, Phillip (who is Junior Class President at Tusaine Prep) says that the Contes shared dinner at The Pine Garden with a short red-head and a man that was probably her father! This was further supported by news from **pennybabe66** who confirms that Jon and his folks were indeed having another intimate dinner with Al and her daddy!

Could we be looking at our newest Corus Couple? Just how did boyish and brusque Al Trebond capture our god's interest? How long have they been secretly going out? All these questions to be answered soon! In the meantime, don't be too hasty (ladies)! You might want to tear this girl's hair out… but she's not your average dainty gal. Leave the confrontation to our Queen Bee. Get your popcorn ready!

Know anything at all about Jon and Al? Tell us at www . corusgoss. com!

-

Jon, where are you? Call me.

_10 Sep. 2008 04:46PM  
TXT from: Delia_

-

**From:** Tay (staylove_0501)  
**To:** me (a_red22)  
**Date: **Thu, Sep 10, 2008 at 9:10 PM  
**Subject:** Have you seen this?

Hello Al,

I just went on your school's gossip column and they have this ridiculous article about you and Jon! Have you seen what this Dee girl is saying about you? It's absolutely shocking and funny too. If only they knew that you punched him when he tried to kiss you!

Here's the link: http : // www . corusgoss . com /

Glad to hear that your home : ) You had me so worried for a while. I heard from George that Thom said you were really upset. You don't have to reply back or tell me anything. I just want you to know that I'm here.

Love Tay

-

**miss_violet:** i still can't believe it!  
**pennybabe66:** trust me, it took a lot of decision making before i sent that small tid-bit of info about jon and the tomboy to dee  
**miss_violet:** it makes sense though! i overheard francis talking about it with raoul during study hall yesterday  
**pennybabe66:** and i heard that the tomboy has been absent too…  
**miss_violet:** really? i hadn't really paid attention. i have ancient hist today next, so I'll see if al's there or not  
**pennybabe66: **al? i never knew you were on a first name basis with it  
**miss_violet:** that's mean. we aren't really friends, but we do share a few classes together  
**pennybabe66: **whatever lori

_sxc_frenchie has logged on_

**sxc_frenchie:** Hi ladies  
**miss_violet:** hi josaine  
**pennybabe66:** what are you doing online? you're never on  
**sxc_frenchie: **Oh don't expect this to be regular occerance. I'm just checking to make sure that no one believes that trash being said by Dee on that childish gossip blog.  
**miss_violet:** it's "occurrence"  
**sxc_frenchie:** What was that?  
**miss_violet:** nothing, you just had a typo

-

I need some time to think, D. I'll explain everything when I get back.

_10 Sep. 2008 10:37PM  
TXT from: Jon_

-

**Corus High's Gossip Column  
The latest HOT GOSS brought to you by Miri & Dee**

Friday, 11th September  
10:56am by Miri

Non-Goss Reminder: Don't forget to take a minute of silence in respect and remembrance for those who lost their lives on this day in 2001.

Back to the Goss: Al Trebond has not been at school since Wednesday. Jon Conte has not been at school since Wednesday. Does this equal a surreptitious romantic getaway together for our newest "Corus Couple"? It would sure seem so! If they were trying to be subtle about it… they weren't doing themselves any favours. Al Trebond has not been spotted around town since Tuesday evening in Tusaine. It seems those early rumours at the beginning of semester were actually right…

Continuing on from Dee's promise; we have some speculations that will fuel all our curiosity (and envy) for now. While we have no clues as to how long the two of them have been an item… we can deduce that it probably occurred sometime during Jon & Delia's break-up last July. It makes sense that Jon was looking for company since Delia did dump The God for his sexy cousin, Roger. I guess it must have surprised Jon that company came in the form of one troublesome red-head who also happens to be the twin sister of his good friend, Thom (our resident Einstein).

But so far so good. There seems to be no trouble in paradise yet for these two lovebirds. They can deny it all they want… but Al's probably up there giving our poor, sick Jon some good TLC.

-

CRAP. Have you seen The Champion today? I just got it now. Does Thom know?

_12 Sep. 2008 04:05PM  
TXT from: Raoul_

-

No. Why? What's up? And I'm getting a copy now. You're up pretty early for a Saturday. Never even knew you read the paper.

_12 Sep. 2008 04:15PM  
TXT from: Gary_

-

Have you got it yet? I need to know if I'm imagining things or not.

_12 Sep. 2008 04:18PM  
TXT from: Raoul_

-

Fuck. HOLY FUCK. No way!

_12 Sep. 2008 04:27PM  
TXT from: Gary_

-

OMG! Have you read the Champion?

_12 Sep. 2008 05:12PM  
TXT from: Penny_

-

Are you shitting me? This isn't something to shit about man.

_12 Sep. 2008 05:13PM  
TXT from: Alex_

-

OMG JOSAINE! Have you heard about the news?!!!

_12 Sep. 2008 05:17PM  
TXT from: Danielle G_

-

ZOMFG! Did you read about Al Trebond??????

_12 Sep. 2008 05:22PM  
TXT from: Jason_

-

I'm not shitting you man. I'm getting all these msgs from everyone asking if it's true. How the hell should I know? I found out from the freakin NEWSPAPER for shit's sake.

_12 Sep. 2008 05:24PM  
TXT from: Raoul_

-

Tell me I'm hallucinating, baby.

_12 Sep. 2008 05:31PM  
TXT from: G_

-

OMG! OMG! OMG!

_12 Sep. 2008 05:32PM  
TXT from: Taylor Wilima_

-

Please tell me it isn't true.

_12 Sep. 2008 05:34PM  
TXT from: Delia_

-

I gather congratulations are in?

_12 Sep. 2008 05:42PM  
TXT from: Roger_

-

Is this why you haven't been to school? Fuck. I should've known it. I don't know what to say. Do you need me and the guys to come over?

_12 Sep. 2008 06:01PM  
TXT from: Doug_

_-_

Miri! This is the story we've been waiting for! OMG… I don't know where we're going to start!

_12 Sep. 2008 06:22PM  
TXT from: Dee_

-

Source: **The Daily Champion, 12 September 2008**

**CONTE HEIR ENGAGED**

_Story by Buri Tourakom_

Early this afternoon at 2:30pm, Roald Conte announced to a small group of media officials in a private meeting that his son, Jonathan Conte, 18, is engaged to marry family friend Alanna Trebond, 16. Mr Conte explains that it will be "a long engagement since both Jonathan and Alanna are still in school." Accompanying Mr Conte was his wife, Lianne, and Alanna's father, Alan Trebond. Mr Trebond, an esteemed professor at the local university, added further details surrounding this well-kept news: "Our families are only looking for your support. We hope that this future marriage will strengthen not only the bonds between our families, but also in the community."

It is not surprising news to hear of an early marriage for the Contes. When questioned if the engagement had anything to do with a political or controversial matter, all three parents declined and chose not to comment. The private meeting came to a close after fifteen minutes and has now resulted in a widespread public anticipation for even a small glimpse of the young couple. Jonathan is currently the heir to the corporate empire built by his late grandfather, and Alanna has born the proud title of State Swimming Champion for the past four consecutive years.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I just want to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter: Ally_Marty, Oryc, lacking a better name, InkySwear, rootless californian, LadyKnight0207, azzizarukas, SpaceHead3, Merkaba7734, Tortall101, Preethi, Arieyu, Sarralyn, Caitlin, Denaliyasha, Caitlyn, princess pauline and danishgirl. You all rock!


	7. Senility, the New Evil

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Seven: Senility, the New Evil**

**

* * *

**"May I come in?" was the first coherent words Al heard in five days.

Lianne Conte was standing at her doorway with an unreadable expression. Al nodded and sat up on her bed, conscious of her sprawled position. She watched as Lianne took in the state of her room in one sweeping glance before the woman stepped inside her bedroom and arranged herself elegantly in Al's old swivel chair. Lianne twisted the silver bracelet on her left wrist to and fro while Al shifted uncomfortably on her bed. Al considered apologizing for the state of mess her room was in, but banished the thought quickly. She had no need to say sorry for anything.

Lianne finally brought her eyes up to observe Al. "You know why I'm here."

"To try and explain what this whole… _nightmare_… is all about?" Al asked somewhat viciously. "I'm not an idiot. Nothing you or anyone else will say will make me accept this."

"I'd be a fool if I ever wanted you to accept this straight away, Alanna. I'm also a part of this arrangement. Do you think it was easy for me to accept this?" Lianne's eyes were digging into her and Al looked away. "Jonathan is my son. And I'm not that inconsiderate or cruel to think that this wouldn't hurt you, or anger you."

_Then why did you let this happen?_ Al thought, unimpressed. "I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I just don't buy this whole empathy thing. I'd appreciate it if you could just tell me that this is some big joke meant to punish me or something." For what, though, was the question.

Lianne's lips compressed into a thin line. Al wasn't too surprised. It was the kind of reaction she got out of most adults. "I can't say that, I'm sorry. But I can try to make you understand."

"What's to understand?" Al asked with a laugh. She could feel her hands shaking despite her bravado so she shoved her hands under her thighs. "I'm being forced to marry your son because of an old pact between his grandfather and mine. Sounds pretty archaic and useless to me. Not to mention completely unfair. Whatever happened to respecting the individual and free choice?"

"Honour and loyalty is very important in the Conte family," Lianne explained. Al looked at the older woman in amazement. Didn't she hear a thing of what Al had just said? "When your grandfather saved Jasson's life in the war, and sacrificed his arms and legs in the process… Jasson only wanted to repay him. Your grandfather had worked hard to make a living for his family; but no matter what he did, it was never good enough to get them out of the poverty that had attacked many families since the Depression. Losing his limbs shattered any further hopes for what your grandfather could accomplish for the rest of his life. It also meant that his family would suffer without him there to make a living."

Al had heard the edited and shortened version of this story nights ago at the Pine Garden Restaurant. But something like pity unfurled in her stomach after hearing the full details. She had never known her grandfather for he had died years before she was even born. So it was strange to know that the Contes had been intertwined with her family beyond just Thom's acquaintanceship with Jon Conte. But it didn't explain why _she _was involved in any of this. "But why am I being-I mean-marrying into your family? Obviously, this has something to do with the repayment thing, but why _me?_" _How pathetic did I just sound?_ Al cringed, annoyed that she couldn't make her voice as strong and cold as she wanted. This whole engagement business was messing with her system.

"Ah. We didn't explain this properly on Tuesday evening, did we?" Lianne mused, before she leaned back further into the squeaky swivel chair and recrossed her ankles. The gesture made Al wary. This wasn't a time to get comfortable. The older woman obviously thought this was some heroic story that would magically cause Al to fall over in inspired understanding. "Jasson arranged for his eldest son—Roald—to be promised in marriage to your Aunt Catherine, the sole daughter of the Trebond line. This would effectively bring the two families closer, but also allow your grandfather to finally provide his family with a secure future. The Contes were—and are, as you know—one of the wealthiest and most prestigious lineages in the country. Jasson made it his life's promise to continue honouring your grandfather by doing this."

Her grandfather must have been desperate to consent and willingly want to give his daughter away to someone she barely knew.

The gears in Al's head started moving and she unconsciously started biting her fingernails. "But Aunt Catherine died in that accident when she was still a teenager. And grandpa couldn't have any more kids. Oh." Al's stomach started to feel queasy, and an ungrateful part of her cursed her Aunt Catherine for dying and leaving Al to carry the burden. No, not burden, but _repayment._ Because Jasson had only passed away two years earlier; and had lived long enough to reinforce his warped, severe (though slightly awe-inspiring) sense of gratitude to her dead grandfather. "This is freakin' out of this world."

Lianne gave Al a stern look but Al wasn't fazed by it. She couldn't help it if her mouth ran away from her sometimes.

But if Aunt Catherine had lived… then Roald wouldn't have married Lianne, and there would be no Jon Conte. While it had its advantages, Al was assaulted by a wave of guilt. She couldn't imagine a world without any of the Contes. She wasn't that much of a bad person for wishing anyone dead.

"But why is Principal Conte seeing this arrangement through? No offense, but Mr Conte is already gone. And surely Principal Conte knows that I don't fit into the image of being anyone's _wife_, " Al said the word with an unmistakable degree of distaste, "let alone Jonathan's wife. Isn't it a commandment, or at least a law, that a Conte heir must marry a Naxen or Eldorne or Wilima?" Al acknowledged briefly that those were the only three families with marriageable daughters that Al knew of.

Lianne looked puzzled for a few seconds. Then her lips quirked—á la Jon Conte style—and she chuckled good-naturedly. Al jerked back in surprise. Genuine brightness and pleasantry always rattled her. She wasn't built to withstand smiles and giggles and all that business, dammit! Give her a smirk or an arrogant challenge and Al would be in her element.

Then Lianne seemed to remember the question, and her face dropped into a scowl. "Oh Jasson was loyal. But he was also senile in his last years. Without us knowing, he changed the provisions in his will. As the main beneficiary, Jonathan should receive his grandfather's business as well as a significant portion of his wealth after his twenty-first birthday. Roald and Jonathan had already made plans to split the company's operations between Jon and his cousin, Roger, who is a brilliant and successful young man in his own right. But Jasson's changes dictated that Jonathan would not receive any of this, until a marriage occurred between you and Jon. Currently, Conte Corp is being run in the hands of a board of directors that have greatly different views as to the direction and purpose of the company. They also play a part in determining just how long and well this marriage will last."

"That's crazy," Al whispered. She stretched out on her bed to think this new information through, all the while forgetting that she should have been sitting straight and proper. "But I can't marry him. I don't even _like_ him! We're barely even friends. If I… marry Jon Conte, then I won't be able to do anything. I wasn't even planning on getting married." At least, not until she was forty or something. A new thought popped into her mind and she looked imploringly at Principal Conte's wife. "But we can divorce, can't we? I only have to stay married to him for an hour or a day or something." _Divorce. _Jesus, it was so fucking weird to say that word. She was only seventeen!

"Not quite," Lianne said.

Al's stomach squeezed so hard she thought that her liver and her pancreas might have traded places. "I have to stay married to him _forever?_"

"No," Lianne sighed, "but you will have to stay married for a substantial amount of time. We're still negotiating with lawyers as to how long 'substantial' implies. In the meantime; we can only hope that the two of you can establish a solid friendship until we can find a way around the provisions of the will."

The red-head felt a small ball on tension ease at the assurance that someone was doing something to fix this disaster.

"Do you understand now?"

Al shrugged. "A little. But it doesn't help the fact that I'm the victim in all this."

Lianne Conte remained silent. Al turned her head to gaze out her window again. She was a victim. This forced marriage was only beneficial to the Contes. What was she to receive at the end of all this? A good friend for a husband?

Al grinned bitterly. Someone might as well throw her in a jail cell.

* * *

Al remained locked up in her room until Bug started scratching at the door. Checking her digital clock, she deemed it a safe enough time to go downstairs without having to be in the company of her family. She picked up Bug and made her way to the kitchen quietly. All the lights were turned off save for the one in the kitchen, where a bowl of spaghetti waited.

She crossed to the cupboards first and took the last can of tuna. She'd have to remember to go and write a note to her brother to buy some more for Bug. She settled her pet on the table before pouring his food onto his blue bowl. Grabbing a plate for herself, she grabbed some dinner and heated it in the microwave. As she waited, she got a bottle of water from the fridge and some crackers from the pantry.

Her brother was in his room, probably asleep already after spending the day at George's house. She had seen him get out of the Eclipse earlier from her bedroom window with a backpack. Getting her spaghetti, she tried not to think about what awaited her the next morning. Mrs Conte had it made it clear that her husband expected her to be at school the next day. He had allowed her to skip school since Wednesday, most likely thinking that a couple days reprieve was enough.

It wasn't.

Al had received more text messages on her cell in the past week than she ever remembered. She had read maybe ten of them before giving up, and soon after, her battery had died and she hadn't bothered to recharge it. She had forty emails waiting in her inbox from people she went to school with, but she hadn't read any of them either.

The only thing she had read was the sole newspaper article that announced the engagement. She could remember the sickly pallor of Thom's face when he had banged on her bedroom door a few days after she came back from staying at Alex's house after she left the Pine Garden in Tusaine. He looked so shocked, whispering "Is this true?" over and over, that Al was obligated to punch him in the arm to get him out of his stupor (and out of her room). They had taken to leaving notes for each other on the fridge and under the slits of their bedroom doors to communicate.

Thom had tried in vain for a couple of hours to get her to come out of her room and talk to him once the Champion came out the day before. But he gave up and Al heard how her twin took out his frustration on their father instead. Not surprisingly, Alan Trebond hadn't spoken a word to Al after his impressive tirade the day she returned home after a short absence. He told Thom repeatedly that it was none of his business, but Al begged to differ. Thom had every right to know.

And so the Trebond house was in a current state of stalemate but for completely opposite reasons. Alan chose not to speak to either of his children except when barking orders. Al locked herself in her room and avoided any contact with anyone. Thom, while communicating with his sister, was absent during the day to stay at their cousin's place because both his fellow housemates weren't speaking. It was therefore unexpected that Lianne Conte had been allowed passage into Al's room. But this could have also been because the Lady Conte was a powerful woman whom also held several answers that Al needed.

Bug's loud mewling broke Al from her reverie. "What is it, boy?"

The feline poked out his small tongue and licked Al's left arm. She forked in some noodles then hopped off her stool to grab the milk carton for Bug. Before she had even finished pouring, her companion immediately darted forward and lapped at his drink. Stroking his fur, Bug burped on cue and caused a ripple of bubbles to emerge on the milk's surface.

"When did everything get so crazy, hm?"

Meooww.

"I know. If my real self could just wake up from this long, stupid dream."

Bug yawned and stretched his small jaw. He shook his head from side to side before settling his bright eyes on Al as she was about done with her meal. "Go on, then. I'll be there in a minute."

Taking his mistress' words to heart, the kitten turned tail and disappeared upstairs like a black blur.

After washing her plate and fork, Al turned off the kitchen light and went upstairs. She treaded carefully to avoid making any creaking noises and froze when the light in Thom's room flickered out from the edges of his wooden door. He must have been waiting for her to finish eating and go to bed. Padding back into her room, she grabbed a pair of pyjamas and went into the bathroom. She went through the motions: brushing her teeth, changing into the flannel boxers and old faded tank top, washing her face, then slapping her cheeks in an attempt to wake her real self up.

Staring into the vanity mirror, she stuck her tongue out and spoke to her reflection. "Either real life turned into a nightmare or the nightmare became real life." Slap, slap. "I'm a lion. I'm a freakin' tiger. I'm a shark, grrr! I'll conquer tomorrow. Rrrr!"

Taking a deep breath, she twirled around and flipped off the light on her way out. _Boy, am I going mental or what?_

* * *

"This doesn't make things any easier," Al informed her cohort.

Beside her, Jon Conte shrugged and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited for the light to go green. "Can you really see yourself going to school today?"

"I would have figured out my own way to skip. You needn't have come and picked me up."

"We've got the excuse of skipping _together, Al._"

Al's lip curled. She supposed that she should get used to him calling her so familiarly. But her name coming from his lips sounded so foreign. "Remind me again what I'm gaining from following you?"

"I promised to keep my fan club—as you dubbed it—away from you," he said, amused.

"Hmph," Al stretched her legs in the tiny Porsche. "So where have you been all week? Thom said that you disappeared for a while. Couldn't handle the news, could you?"

"And you did?" Jon Conte sent her a haughty look. "You're the last person I'd ever even contemplate being a candidate."

Al grunted. "You and me both." That was about as much as the two of them were willing to discuss. Al didn't mind ignoring addressing their current situation. It made it a whole lot easier to cope with reality.

As Jon Conte manoeuvred the sports car into the freeway, she saw his Blackberry sitting unattended in the cup holder. She picked it up without asking for permission and admired the expensive cell in her hands. "So where are we going at seven-thirty in the morning?"

Half an hour earlier, she had woken to the sound of rocks being thrown at her bedroom window. Furious at being disturbed, she had dashed to the window and was about to give the culprit a piece of her mind, only to find the God standing below her in the front driveway. He had nothing as a present except for a promise to play hooky. And here she was. Al wasn't hesitant to admit that it gave her the perfect opportunity to avoid returning back to school and facing the chaos that was in store for her (and Jon Conte) all day.

Monday mornings were not cool.

"I feel like a Happy Meal," he explained.

"We're going all the way out of the city for _McDonalds?_"

He nodded at her. "Unless you have a sudden desire to be front page news, then yes, I think it's a rather obvious objective."

Al crossed her arms and sunk into the passenger seat. Damn Conte.

* * *

0410296758.

Al stared at the digits neatly written on the napkin in her hand. One of the many things she hadn't dreamed of ever being privy to was Jon Conte's cell phone number. But there it was, burning a patch into her palm as she sat on a wooden bench in a random park in the neighbouring city of Tyra. Her companion was sprawled on his back on the table that her spine was leaning against.

"Don't read too much into it," Jon Conte advised from behind. "Or else that frown on your face will become permanent. It just seems logical that as my," a pause, then, "fiancée—you should have my number anyway. Plus, if any of us needs anything…"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "Yeah, I get it."

A moment's silence. "We should head back. It'll take us an hour."

"Well, it should have given your father enough time to cool down," Al murmured.

Was that a smile on Jon Conte's face? "And enough time for the gossip mills to combust from over-excitement and speculation."

"Ugh."

"How's Bug?"

Al wrestled with the seatbelt before it complied. "He's alright. Come to think of it, I need to get him food."

Before he left the parking spot, Jon Conte reached behind her seat and pulled out a brown paper bag. He dumped it in Al's lap as he reversed. "There. That's for him."

Inside the bag were several cans of tuna, other snacks and a red rubber ball.

"Er, thanks," Al conveyed. "It, uh, definitely solves the problem."

When no response was made, Al peered out the window and observed the strange landmarks. She hardly went out of town except for the occasional visit to Tusaine during sporting comps or to shop for something that wasn't available in Corus. Tyra was even more unfamiliar, as it was all high-rise apartments and parks every two blocks. Unlike Corus, which was heavily populated, and a mixture of both outdated and modern, Tyra was fairly new and less crowded. Perhaps it was due to the city's small size, but Al found herself thinking that at least Corus had the kind of people who looked friendly.

Tyrans were ever so aloof, and looked like they would rather enjoy the company of their pet Chihuahua than their neighbours and friends.

Switching her concentration back on the route home, Al leaned her head back on the headrest as they once again joined the freeway. It was three in the afternoon, and though school was out, peak hour would begin soon. Even if they were travelling 110k, Al didn't fail to miss the admiring gazes from drivers and passengers in other cars as Jon Conte's sleek Porsche drove past.

A small part of her was relieved that her companion wasn't pushing the speedometer to 120 like Thom, Alex and George were prone to do. But the horrible taste in music seemed to make up for it. Al wasn't a big fan of R'n'B, but she kept her mouth firmly shut when she otherwise wouldn't have. Even though they were _engaged,_ Jon Conte was still only an acquaintance that she had started talking to a few weeks ago but had also kissed her in a dark linen closet while inebriated.

Al wouldn't take liberties with anything while they spent time together until the air was completely cleared between them. After all, if she wanted to get through the next few months sane, then she would have to put some effort into promoting their acquaintanceship to friendship material.

"You do realize we have to go back tomorrow, don't you?" she commented. Unlike her, Jon Conte was probably still on a high from having skipped class. His clean record was practically legend.

"I'm surprised you said that," he replied while scratching his jaw. The action inadvertently brought Al's eyes to the slight stubble that littered his normally clean-shaven face. Clearly, she wasn't the only one who was shaken by the bombshell dropped on their heads last Tuesday.

"I guess you're right." He was a patient person. Far more than she was, despite the fact that he could be as cold as an ice cube if he wanted. "I was just worried. This being the first time you ditched class officially." The three days reprieve they had been granted last week from his father didn't count of course.

"You think I'm some sort of perfect student?" He sounded highly amused.

Al didn't appreciate it. "Aren't you?"

"Hm, I keep forgetting you weren't there during freshman year." Jon Conte sent a thoughtful smirk her way. "I skipped a period or two at least once every fortnight. Gary and I would make sure to skip the whole day at least once a month in favour of better things like trying to pick up girls at the beach, or going skating in Tusaine. We even shoplifted twice just to avoid math."

Al reigned in her surprise. Jon Conte: truant extraordinaire? Who would have thought. "I didn't know that."

"There are a lot of things you don't know about me."

* * *

**Author's Note:** I wasn't very happy with this chapter, but it had to be written. Sorry for the long wait! Once again; thank you so much for all your reviews! They always make my day :)


	8. Workings of the High School Machine

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Eight: Workings of the High School Machine**

* * *

The oak door separated them solidly from the throng of students filling the hallways of the main building. Al could hear the buzz of hundreds of teenagers talking all at once as they waited for the first bell to ring in less than five minutes. She herself was in no particular rush, and wouldn't mind staying in the same room she had been sitting in for the past hour. As she slouched further into the chair, she wished that she had her backpack with her to use as a shield when the time came to step into the hallway.

There was nothing that scared Al more than high school girls and their infallible power to break her nerves from mass scrutiny alone.

"The old man must have something stronger in here," Jonathan mumbled as he perused through the filing cabinets in his father's office.

Who drank alcohol that early in the morning? "Be happy with your pineapple juice," she advised. "Trust me, there's nothing in here. I've snooped around before."

He turned and leant his elbow on top of the metal cabinet. "That's right. Your perpetual tendencies for trouble. I wouldn't mind if you could pull off a few things today to ensure our return to this office."

"I thought you lived and breathed attention?"

"Multiple breaths in your ear can get a bit disconcerting. I'm not exactly fond of the many questions bound to come up."

Every once in a while, Al took a minute to amaze over the fact that she was actually talking to this guy. Didn't they say that unfamiliar people usually found a common link after horrifically tragic and life-altering incidents? "You've got more things to worry about. Keeping those girls from stampeding after me is one of them." _Like you promised._

He stared at her for a long minute before he gulped down the rest of his breakfast juice. Al's own cheese and tomato sandwich lay half-eaten in Principal Conte's tiny office bin. She knew that it would have been wise to store in as much energy as she could, but the anxiety over the next few minutes had plagued her like a nasty case of acne.

"Let's get this show on the road," Jonathan announced as he straightened up.

Gooseflesh rippled on her forearms. "Can't we wait a few more minutes?"

"Getting this over and done with is better. What's with you?"

That was exactly what _she_ was thinking. Would the real Al Trebond please stand up?

"Gary said most of the school isn't expecting us to show today," the blue-eyed git continued, "And we've got to return sometime. You're just prolonging the inevitable."

Why did he always use big words?

"Unlike you, this situation isn't in my list of top one hundred things to do before I die," she informed him in annoyance as she trudged past him and yanked the door open.

He paused, then suggested she "kiss that list goodbye" before shoving her gently from behind and into the throng of milling bodies.

* * *

In the ten seconds it took before people noticed their sudden presence in the middle of the hall, a strange calm had invaded Al's body. She could sense the tension ease from her partner beside her and Jonathan whistled quietly under his breath.

A guy from her English class was walking in their direction and nodded when he saw her. "Yo, Al."

"Hey," she greeted, surprised yet pleased at the normal exchange.

A few of the girls—probably sophomores—nearby turned curiously towards them. The brunette whispered (loudly) in excitement, "They're back at school!" before the multiple shiny heads converged to discuss this fact.

Disgusted, Al turned to Jon Conte. The corner of his lip lifted and he shook his head at her. Suddenly, the brunette's friend with the curly black hair gasped and stared at them at the same time that three members of the hockey team boomed "Oi! The lovebirds are back!" in different tones.

Like a perfect ripple, all the heads in the vicinity turned towards them. While there wasn't the perfect silence that Al was half-expecting, the stares she encountered ranged from curious and excited to wary and blank. The students who had been moving slowed down or stopped, and Al likened the experience to how traffic navigated and then suspended as it approached a set of lights. No doubt she was the big red spot flashing like a goddamn beacon for concentration.

She had chosen a black baseball cap but it didn't seem to be useful in hiding her red locks.

Sudden movement near the God caught Al's attention. The crowd parted and revealed a nervous looking Francis. Caught off guard, Al gaped when the shy blonde opened his mouth and let out a stream of orders.

"It'd be appreciated if everyone could keep moving! Yes they're alive, and they're here. You can dissect it all you want but look later. The bell's about to go and Mr Naxen will be along in a couple of seconds. So move!"

The students shifted their attention to Francis, who was now a bright shade of tomato, and talked amongst themselves. Ticked—but most likely nervous as hell—Francis scratched his eyebrow before shouting, "Move!" Looking at Jonathan and then Al somewhat sheepishly, he grinned abashed. "Um, welcome back?"

The two boys slapped each other on the back and exchanged a few words.

"Francis…" Al started while she watched in awe as the hall moved slowly. _Sweet!_ Al defied the compulsion to stick her tongue out at the people who kept on glancing back towards them. What were they expecting to see anyway?

"… in the Band's practise room during lunch. It's good that we all have it at the same time," Francis said. "Don't forget alright. Al?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off but then bumped his shoulder with her own. "Thanks for that, by the way."

He only smiled as they started on their way towards the lockers. When they got to hers, Doug was waiting. Several girls hung around and watched as Al stood awkwardly in front of her locker.

"Guess we'll leave you here," Francis remarked and clapped her gently on the shoulder. Jonathan, who had been mostly silent, ignored the eyes boring into him and stepped so close that his face was only a few centimetres away from hers.

Narrowing her eyes, she gave him a hard look. "What?"

"Giving them a show," he replied before his lips hovered next to her ear. "You'll be alright. Just keep your mouth shut." Retreating, he pasted a bright smile on his face and cheerfully ruffled her hair. "See you at lunch!"

In one stride, he disappeared up the stairs leading to the senior lockers. Al stood fuming as she realized she hadn't gotten the last word.

"What was _that_ about?" Doug inquired from behind her.

Twirling around, she gave him a dirty. "Nothing!" Turning the combination, she wretched her locker open and glared so strongly at its contents that even Doug wouldn't be surprised if all her textbooks dissolved into ash.

* * *

By second period, Al had perfected her killer glare. She had barely spoken a word except to answer to her name when it was called out for attendance, and to move her mouth when her friends engaged her in conversation. She didn't consider it that, because "conversation" seemed to revolve around four things: (a) Jon Conte, (b) her, (c) engagements, and (d) all of the above.

Al knew that everyone was swapping rumours and commentaries, but by some miracle… she had blocked them all out and developed an impressive case of selective hearing. Though she couldn't escape hearing random words like "engaged", "Principal", "unbelievable", "thinking?", "secret", "tomboy", "sex! OMG!" and "Delia", Al was just glad that the short bout of nervousness she had experienced that morning had totally vanished.

Knowing that she was still the same Al Trebond made her happy like nothing else. Maybe that was why even her teachers had avoided bringing attention to her. Not because they felt sympathetic towards her situation, but rather because having a troubled Al in the classroom was equivalent to trying to contain four temperamental, oversensitive, and troublesome children in a zoo.

"So what's the cover story?" Geoffrey asked when their Economics teacher had his back turned to them.

Al frowned. "What do you mean?"

"We all know this is an arranged marriage, right? But not everyone does. Do the parents want to cover that up from everyone else?"

She bit the end of her pen. "I'm not sure, actually. I was just told to try and avoid answering questions."

"Well that's weird," he commented. "Maybe there isn't a cover story then. I doubt they wouldn't have had a plan if there was."

"The Contes are known for arranged marriages, anyway," Zach offered from Al's other side. "Even Jon is a product of one." Well, she could always count on Zach to know those kinds of things. He was always so resourceful when you needed to know about other people. Nosy Parker was Zach's middle name.

"Fair enough," Geoffrey countered, clearly satisfied. That's what Al liked about him. He was mature, and a go-with-the-flow kind of guy.

"How does it feel like being the centre of attention?" Zach winked. He probably thought it was finally safe to ask since Al was talking and not glaring anymore.

Al breathed through her nose. "I can't say I like it much. But so far, everyone's been avoiding getting in my way. They just talk about me in front of my face, and behind my back."

She missed the look exchanged between Zach and Geoffrey.

"You know, a lot of people actually believe you and Jon have been an item for a while now." Zach was pretending to do his work when Al glanced at him.

"Either people are stupid, or desperate, or both," she concluded with an acid look at her fellow classmates. "I mean, Jonathan and I didn't even talk to each other before. How the hell do people come up with these things?"

Zach smoothed a hand over his blonde hair and winked at one of their peers who was staring at him. "How should I know? But it's fun."

"You've got to be careful from now on and just keep feigning ignorance," Geoffrey instructed. "Zach wasn't kidding when he said that a lot of people believe that you and Jon have had a secret liaison going on since the summer. That day the rumours started really fed the gossip machine."

"What day?" Al asked and hurriedly busied herself with writing when the teacher turned back to look at them.

"Don't you remember the rumours after you had your first dinner with the Contes?"

She went through her memories and found nothing. "No?"

Geoffrey sighed. "Never mind. Just be prepared to hear the worst about yourself."

* * *

Al was in the bathroom during fourth period when it started.

The girls' bathroom in the R-Block had been completely empty when Al arrived brandishing a pass. The emptiness of the place made her sigh in relief. She often avoided going because it was usually filled with girls who skipped class to talk, smoke or text others using their cells. She was in the last cubicle farthest away from the door when she heard the squeak of the hinges and a chorus of chattering girls enter.

"Have you heard what the freshmen and sophomores are saying?" Girl A asked her companions.

Her friend, Girl B, clucked her tongue loudly. "They're just copying what everyone's saying. I love the one about how Josaine is _like, totally plotting against her for stealing Jon. Josaine is like, the best bitch around. Even Delia wasn't as good as Josaine is._"

A chorus of laughter followed the mimicking, and Al pouted after realizing that the girls were talking about her and the God.

Girl A spoke up again. "As if Josaine even had a chance. We all know what's really goin' on, don't we ladies?"

Sounds of approval filled the bathroom. "Hey, can I borrow your dark-red lipstick? I shouldn't have bought the lighter shade. It makes me look like a clown," a new voice—Girl C—piped in.

Al could hear the rustling of items as someone went through their stuff. "Do you reckon Jon even likes her?"

"Who, Alanna?" Girl B said. "Who knows? He must find something in her to be banging her every night."

Al's cheeks flushed and nearly nabbed her knuckle while she zipped up her jeans.

"It must work to their advantage then. The arranged marriage, I mean."

"Mrs Conte probably wanted to cover up the indiscretion. It wasn't like Jon and Alanna were dating anyway. The Contes are pretty conservative. Mrs Conte wouldn't want them to be sleeping together while not going out."

Girl A spoke up again. "I overheard Alex telling Raoul that Al had stayed over at his house when the two were told of the engagement. Think something's goin' on there?"

"Hmm, Alex always was close to the tomboy. But nah. I mean, only a fool wouldn't be satisfied with the God alone. Better for Jon to be screwing the tomboy than Josaine Isles."

Her companions burst out into catcalls and "reowrr's". Al heard the taps run, and then switch off, before the hand dryers came to life.

"Ready?" Girl C asked. "I've been gone for nearly half an hour. Mr Kearns will kill me and I don't want another detention."

"Yeah, same here," Girl B groaned before they shuffled out of the bathroom.

Al, who had been standing still in the cubicle, let out a deep breath. She was about to flush the toilet when she heard the doors swing open again and someone came in. A little wary at what she might be facing if she made her presence known—those seniors sounded quite formidable—she chose to remain undetected.

"Hey, I'll just be a minute. Thanks for coming with me," the newcomer informed her companion (and Al).

The other girl—whose voice was pretty deep—turned on the taps. "No problem. I needed to get away from Geraldine anyway. She can get pretty annoying."

"I _know!_ She can be a total bitch sometimes. Did you know that she's cheating on Mark with Steven?"

"I'm not surprised."

"She's just trying to work her way up the jocks to get to Jon Conte."

"That won't be happening."

The girl in the cubicle giggled, before Al heard a flush and the click of the lock unlocking. "She'll probably get beaten up by Al Trebond if she so much as touches his arm or something."

"It looks wrong though. But I guess Jonathan can get whatever girl he wants…"

"The guys were saying that it was shocking to hear about. But then a few minutes later, Costa and Nadir said that they always knew Al Trebond was a bit of a dark horse. Plus Jon and she always seemed to have this strange interaction when they're at school."

"So they've been together secretly, then?"

"I guess it's true." The dryers went off again. "I got an email last night from Anne saying that Miri and Dee will be covering this whole story from now on. So you better check the website every night if you want to know more about them."

As soon as the door shut, Al pressed down on the flush and got out of the cubicle. Moving to the sink, she washed her hands then splashed her face with some water. She didn't bother looking at her reflection and wiped her wet hands on her jeans as she headed for the door.

Who the hell were Miri and Dee?

* * *

"Who the hell are Miri and Dee?" she demanded over an hour later as she strode into the Band Room.

Six pairs of eyes turned to look at her.

Gary, who had been sitting behind a set of drums and holding onto those wooden chopstick thingies, frowned. "They're the girls behind the school's gossip column."

"We have a gossip column?"

"Yeah," Raoul grunted from the other side of the room where he played with a football in his hands. Beside him, Cythera and Zach waved to her silently.

"Where's everyone else?" Thom asked the room while she threw her twin a granola bar and a packet of chips.

"Doug and Geoffrey will be late. They had to stay behind for something."

Cythera dusted the crumbs off her skirt. "Jon and Alex should be on their way. You never know what those two are up to."

Zach laughed in glee. "They're probably makin' out in the janitor's closet."

Gary and Raoul grinned while Francis laughed from behind his laptop. Only Cythera and Al didn't find Zach's joke that funny. "It's not good to make fun of them like that," Cythera reprimanded the younger boy.

Zach pouted. "Sorry, _mommy._ But everyone knows those two are as close as this," he twisted his index and third finger together to demonstrate. Then, the gleam in his eyes transferred towards Al. "And now because of her, Jon and Alex will have to spend less time together."

"Shut up, Wellam," she growled lightly.

He took no heed. "Or maybe they'll fight over you. Alex will call up previous possession over you, but since Jon is your fiancé, he'll be—"

"_Sacherell._"

"I'm shutting up!" He slouched like a wounded pup. "Geez, Al."

"Hey!" Gary shouted and slammed the wooden sticks onto the drums. "Calm down." Silence and then complains of "Shit, Gary!" and "Owww!" filled the air as the clang of the drums busted their eardrums.

Francis and Thom, who had been looking at the laptop, called Al over. Before she looked at the screen she noted that her brother had an irked expression on his pale face. "This is Miri and Dee's website," Francis pointed out and she swung the laptop to face her.

-

_**Corus High's Gossip Column  
The latest HOT GOSS brought to you by Miri & Dee**_

_Tuesday, 16th September__  
10:07am by Dee_

_Exactly one week ago, the social world of Corus High was turned upside down. Today, our secret lovebirds returned to school after a week-long hiatus that had all of us reeling from surprise! Witnesses claim that Jon and Al stepped into the main hall 3 minutes before the first bell and looked as cool as could be. Portia, a sophomore, and her friends spotted them first as they exited from the Principal's office. A few other sources also informed us that Jon and Al shared a short but sizzling kiss on the cheek before they separated paths this morning for home class._

_With news of their engagement splashed all over the newspapers, we are only left to wonder why they're still acting as if they hardly know each other. And in case Jon and Al, of our own modern Cinderella story, are reading this; take heed. You don't have to hide. We all know what the two of you were doing just this very morning! You naughty kids!_

_Monday, 15th September__  
8:30pm by Miri_

_Fact or Fiction: Sources say that Tyson James, our infamous half-back was caught in a passionate lip lock with the young, new sub teacher Miss Harcourt! While we can't confirm this piece of goss, we'd appreciate it if you could report back to us anything you might know about it._

_RED HOT!! Once again, Jon and Al didn't show. BUT below is an exclusive present from Dee and me for all our readers! That's right, folks. The two spent the day in Tyra, sharing a McDonalds Big Breakfast, before they spent the latter half of the afternoon on a date in Helcast Park. Even Delia wasn't spoiled this rotten when she was with Jon! Are we looking at our new Queen?_

_Photo exclusives courtesy of Kris Ortiz._

_-  
_

"I don't believe this!" Al whispered. "Are they seriously saying that he and I—in his _dad's _office—doing _that! _That's disgusting and just plain wrong!_"_

"It's only a rumour, Al," Raoul reminded her.

She looked back at the screen and spotted a picture of two girls. Miri & Dee. She committed their faces to memory. Thom must have recognized the intent on her face for he warned her to back off. "Seriously, Al, don't even think about it. They're just doing their job. What makes them any different from everyone else who has wild ideas in their heads to explain the missing blanks in front of them? Lay off, Al; _now _before you even begin anything."

"You can't stop me," she challenged. "Besides I wasn't going to do anything harmful. I'll just teach them a lesson to stop making up lies." Threatening someone was harmless, right? Only sissies thought otherwise.

Francis had caught on to the siblings' conversation. "But why single them out, Al? Everyone else is doing it."

She slammed a fist in front of him on the table, making his food jump. "But everyone goes to see this Miri and Dee's website. They all view it as the most reliable of all rumours in our school—you said it yourself. They're the ones with the influence! You don't want to know half the things I've heard today."

Gary coughed from where he now stood with a cello in his arms. "I don't think you've heard the worst of them, pip. If you had, you wouldn't be here making plans. You'd already be out _there,_" he pointed straight to the door.

"Some of them are really outrageous," Cythera added in a significantly softer voice than before.

Francis drummed his fingers on the table and looked to Thom, and then to Al. "At least it's only gossip here at school that you have to deal with. I'm not saying it will happen, but you're going to have to be prepared to deal with people who would go to any lengths to get information." Then he rubbed his brow like he always did when he was nervous. "And know that you might be hated, Al. Some of the girls are really upset. I wouldn't put it past them to try and make things harder for you. It'll take them a while, but eventually they'll discover that it takes more than just bad words to hurt you."

"We need to do some damage control," Raoul confirmed.

"No," Jonathan said, and Al lifted her head to see him and Alex at the doorway. He looked tired. "Dad says we need to leave them be. If we try to control anything, it might backfire. People will eventually get tired of talking about us and forming a theory they believe is right."

Slowly, the others thought it over. Alex made his way to a free seat, one of which was beside Al. Bumping fists, he sat down as she gave him her remaining granola bar.

Her friend leaned over in concern to speak quietly. "You okay, Trebond?"

She shrugged. "Well I'm here in one piece and without a single detention or complaint. But this day takes the cake for the weirdest and worst things I've ever heard." What really disturbed Al was that everyone assumed she was having sex with the blue-eyed enigma across the room from her. While she mulled over that, she failed to notice the frowns that Thom, Jon and Raoul sent her and Alex.

Apparently sick of the silence, Zach bopped up and down like a child on a sugar high. "So serious! Shouldn't we be talking about other things? Like the basketball game coming up soon. I'm so sick of Dain Melor rubbing it in our faces that they won State last year."

Gary nodded in agreement. "He's a fuckin' pretty boy with little brains, and no character. On Friday night, he came up to me after our game against Wilcox and said that he was surprised we won without Jon there. What a cockface."

"Gary!" Cythera scolded her boyfriend. "Don't say it like that. Can't you think of less offending words to use?"

Gary huffed, and then to Al's amusement melted like a puddle of goo at Cythera's stare. "Fine, ma. Anything for you."

"Pussy-whipped!" Raoul mouthed to the rest of them at the same time that Zach made whipping actions at Raoul's behind. Raoul, who suddenly looked shy, hid behind his hand like a demure lady.

The room burst into laughter at the same time that Gary turned red with embarrassment. Coughing, Al's eyes accidently slid towards Jon Conte, who—upon finding her staring at him—winked at her before returning his attention to his friends.

* * *

**Author's Note: **More interaction with other students in the next chapter! And Numair (for those of you who guessed right) should be making his next appearance soon =D And my thanks to Sascha, Arieyu and EmRose for reviewing Chap 7!


	9. Eyes and Ears, and Pencil Case Zippers

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Nine: Eyes and Ears, and Pencil Case Zippers**

* * *

"You're not doing a very good job, you know."

Al stopped and froze at the sound of the familiar, cat-like drawl that could only belong to the one person Al definitely _didn't _want to be facing. Now why did she have to leave the Band Room so early? If she could have just kept a tighter rein on her temper, then maybe she wouldn't be shrouded in the familiar perfume that announced the Queen Bee.

Squaring her shoulders, she put on her well-worn cool façade and turned. "I don't know what you mean."

Delia looked at her closer. "You might want to try and control that temper of yours. It isn't attractive to display that kind of," a pause, then "_spirit_ when this kind of attention is on you. In other words: compose yourself."

Al tried hard not to gape, stutter, or worse—show her annoyance. The annoyance was more to do with herself. Why did Delia always have this power over her? "I don't think it's any of your business," she bit out.

Delia smoothed manicured hands over her pristine Abercrombie & Fitch shirt. "We both know that's complete bull, don't we?"

"Just hurry up and threaten me about stealing your boyfriend. I have other things to do," _like tracking down those stupid gossip columnists._

It was made clear that Al wasn't going to be going anywhere when the other girl stepped closer. Al couldn't help herself from looking at Delia's heaving bosom, which consequently, was on eye level. The A&F logo emblazoned coquettishly. "This conversation has been long overdue. You haven't forgotten our little chat at the beginning of last year, have you?"

The green eyes were inquisitive and condescending at the same time. Al steeled herself. "Do I look as if I would?" She had stayed away from Jonathan Conte for a whole year. "It isn't my fault that this _engagement_ happened."

Delia's eyes made a quick survey of the—thankfully—empty locker corridor before leaning forward until her hair nearly obscured them both. "I never said it was your fault. I'm here to propose a new arrangement."

"Another truce?" Al said in distaste. Clearly, Delia had had time to get over the shock announcement of the future Conte-Trebond nuptial and was at it again making plans and schemes and 'arrangements' that gave her ultimate control. The manipulative bitch.

"They aren't so bad to follow, now are they? And it isn't a truce. It's an arrangement." Delia smiled and Al had a feeling that this one was actually genuine. Oh how the boys of Corus High would hate her for being one of the few privy to it. "Since there's no way for you to stay away from Jon, then the terms will be modified."

Al rolled her eyes. It wasn't as if she even wanted to be around him all this time. This girl was truly something. "Hurry up then!"

"So impatient," Delia crooned and proceeded to settle back a fair distance away. The brunette made certain that Al was giving her the fullest attention. "Make this engagement as easy and true as you can. Jon may not be my boyfriend anymore—but I'll always love him. Don't make it difficult for him. That means trying as hard as you can to make this engagement appear genuine."

"What?" Al asked in confusion. "You're asking me to accept this and just go along with it? Are you_ nuts? _What's wrong with you! And what do I get out of all of this?" Al couldn't help the harsh thought that she was a victim, _again._

"Keep that voice down, Alanna Marie," she reminded Al, a warning in her voice. "If you do this, then I'll guarantee to not only continue staying off your back, but I'll handle the gossip around here. If someone tries something, come to me and I'll deal with it."

Al was instantly suspicious. "Why? What have you to gain? Need I remind you that you're a selfish bitch with an attitude problem?"

The grin was cruel and cold. "I think you've got it wrong. _You're _the one with the attitude problem, Al. I don't need a mask to hide behind."

"Look, as much as I _love_ our heart to heart, can you get to the point?" Somehow, Delia always knew where to strike. Whoever said that Queen Bees were complete airheads Al didn't know. Even Delia held a higher GPA than her.

Once again, Delia bent down to look Al directly in the face. "Jon's not the only one who has something to lose if this engagement turns out a total flop. Work hard to make it genuine. I'll be seeing you." With a tight smile, Delia turned and vanished down the stairs towards the cafeteria while Al was left to ponder on their exchange.

_What the hell did _that _mean? _Was there someone else connected to the engagement and its outcome? How was Delia related to them?

And did Delia just say that Jon was no longer her boyfriend?

"Well damn," an unfamiliar voice commented from behind her. Al turned and found a tall, shaggy-haired boy staring wistfully at the stairs that Delia had gone.

* * *

"It's _you._"

"It's you!"

Al blinked before surveying the guy in front of her. He looked somewhat different, in black jeans, black shirt and a dark brown leather jacket. _Dangerous, _came to mind but she remembered the little girl that had looked up at him in adoration at the library.

"You go here?" she asked and frowned. "I've never seen you before around school."

He looked at her sheepishly and the word _dangerous _dissolved from her impressions. "Oh, I just got here. It was my first day yesterday but I don't know where room R08 is." He waved a slip of paper—which Al gathered was his schedule—in the air.

"You're in the wrong building," Al pointed out and lifted her brows. "The R Block is there," she jerked her thumb out the large window to her right. The grey building faced them mockingly.

The new boy's eyes widened slightly. "Aw, that sucks. I'm supposed to have lunch right now but I wanted to know where that room was."

"And you somehow made it here?" She shook her head and held out her hand. "I'm Al."

He gazed down at her tiny hand and shook it. "Nate. Real name's Numair, but it sounds so—"

"No need to explain. I have a friend named _Sacherell_."

"Well that's comforting."

Al tipped her head back to watch as he folded his schedule and then slipped it into his back pocket. If she didn't know any better—this was the first person she'd come across that was actually _normal._ After all the recent drama in her life, it was refreshing to talk to someone who didn't treat her like a boy, a girl or the current topic of town. She was just a normal, functioning, stranger that was also a person. Maybe she needed a normal friend. Another ally in this school was always a bonus.

"I'll show you to the room then." At his grateful nod, they moved off. "So where did you move from?"

"Came from Carthak Private Academy. There were a few issues with my guardian, so I ended up moving here to stay with my mother's cousin and her family."

"I see." _Reminds me! I should inquire soon about divorcing myself from my father. _"They rich or anything?" she joked.

He glanced over at her and shrugged. "I think so. They're the Wilimas."

Al stopped. "You're kidding! You're related to _Tay?_"

"You know her?" He looked surprised, but Al ignored it since everyone always was when they discovered that Al spent time with the belle of Corus. "Wow! I didn't expect that."

"Yeah, she's a, er, good friend of mine." Then Al found herself talking before thinking, "You live with Tay, yet you were left admiring Delia as if she was the first girl you had ever seen?"

Nate pumped a fist in the air softly. "So Delia's her name, hm? Boy, was she hot. And about Tay… yeah she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but she's my second cousin. It's weird thinking about her that way—though I used to have this massive crush on her when we were younger. Plus that boyfriend of hers…" he trailed off with a nudge.

Al laughed out right. "George? Ha! He's such a pansy when it comes to Tay."

"I see you know him too."

"He's my cousin."

"No shit! What a small world," Nate concluded before producing a pen randomly from his back pocket. "Aunt Kalasin completely hates him."

Al wasn't too shocked. "Yeah, I figured. How about her Dad?" Even the fact that George was a college student with a decent job and a good mother wasn't going to earn him brownie points. The rich always stuck to their own kind. Though, the Conte's seemed to be branching out because of her limbless grandfather…

"He doesn't really care."

As she pushed open the doors leading into the grey building, she told him to remember this route because it was the shortcut to the R Building.

"So what about you?" Nate asked, and flicked his head to the side so that his straight black hair flew reminiscent of a Head & Shoulders commercial before settling into its trademark shaggy do.

"Not much. I'm just a junior who's lived in Corus all my life. I'm not a cheerleader or anything." She was impressed by the deadpan face that her companion wore. Only an idiot would have missed the remark since she was clearly dressed like a boy. She continued. "You might hear my name, but just ignore it, especially when other people are talking about it."

"You did something controversial, did you?" he teased.

Al sighed. _Not me exactly, but I guess you could say that. _Instead, "Yeah supposedly, or something like that," came out. She had almost forgotten about her immediate problems for a while.

He seemed to note the serious expression that now resettled on her face. "Right. So is R08 on this floor?"

* * *

"Al, you do know that you can come to me if you want to talk or need some advice?" Mr Olau explained as he sat down with her. She had ten minutes remaining before the bell rang to indicate the end of her lunch period and had wondered into her next class a few minutes early. The thought of going back to look for Miri and Dee had been put on pause. She'd need more than just ten minutes to _talk _to them.

She nodded. "I know, Sir. I just need time, no matter how lame that just sounded. I mean I've had more than a week—but can you really prepare for something like this? It's not me. _This_ whole engagement fiasco isn't for me."

Mr Olau rocked the mug in his hand in a clockwise motion and watched as his coffee swirled and swirled. "You're going to have to learn to adapt, kiddo. Just don't expect it to come easily. Maybe that's why you're having so much trouble coming to accept it."

"I don't get what you're trying to say, Sir."

"Just stop thinking that you have to accept this right now, or by tomorrow or next week. Understanding the situation in front of you might progress very slowly. Eventually you'll get there – you have to, or else everything will just go downhill. There's only one thing that you can do, and remember."

Al waited. "What's that?"

Mr Olau returned his concentration to her. "Stop putting a wall up. You're never going to even start getting to that point of acceptance if you've already blocked it off inside. Be smart, and be realistic. You claim that all the girls around you are pathetic and naïve. You need to look in a mirror, Al. Jon's a good kid, with a good family who is trying their best right now to figure out ways to make this engagement easier—and if possible—avoidable. Try to be a little less selfish, and you might earn a good friend and learn something in the process."

* * *

Al wasn't aware of the serious grimace that was showing on her face as her classmates filed into the room. They steered clear of her, but she was too far into her thoughts to have noticed anyway. Some of the girls attempted to smother their tittering at the realization that they would have front row seats to the first substantial Jon-Alanna interaction since their absence.

She wasn't conscious of the fact that the two friends she usually sat with had chosen to leave the seats on either side of her free until Jonathan and Gary slid in beside her. The action wasn't even an option around this time last week. But Al deduced that at least they wouldn't have any problems with the group work once it arose. Gary had unmistakably gotten over their initial awkward friction and had chosen loyalty to his cousin and his cousin's current predicament.

Despite his famous playboy-entertainer habits, Gary Naxen was incredibly steadfast.

"Why the frown, Trebond?"

"Just thinking over something someone said."

"Could that something have to do with someone named Delia?"

Al's head whipped to her left. Gary's chin was resting on his palm as he gazed at her questioningly.

"How did you know about that?" She and Delia had been careful to conduct their conversation without an audience. That was an unwritten rule between them since they had first crossed paths on her second day of freshman year.

His arm collapsed under him as if her words had affected him so strongly. "There are eyes and ears _everywhere_ in this school. I'm surprised you don't know that by now."

"I've never had a reason to worry about it before," she pointed out with a light glower. After all, the most attention that had ever been paid to her in school previously had been when she showed up at Principal Conte's office yet again for another detention. But even that had just been a casual line in passing. No one had really cared about Al Trebond except for Thom, Doug, Zach, Alex and sometimes, Geoffrey and Mr Olau.

"Get used to it. You'll never have privacy again." He flipped open his notebook and watched in amusement as Mr Olau smudged the recent coffee stain on his bright yellow tie. "So tell me, young one, what did the Wet Dream speak to you about?"

"Can you _not_ call me 'young one'? I'm only a year behind. And I'm not telling you. It isn't that important." She leaned away from him and naturally gravitated in the opposite direction to Jon Conte. Comprehending then that the God hadn't said a single word in the past ten minutes, she focused a good eye on him. Unnoticed, he was completely absorbed in zipping then re-zipping his plain, thin black pencil case. Al took in the tidy notebook and pen aligned perfectly against its spine.

Beside it, their Classical Mythology textbook sat in perfect condition. A crease wrinkled his forehead as he seemed to be counting silently to himself. Ziiiiiiipp, 1. Ziiiiiiipp, 2. Ziiiiiiipp, 3. Thinking no more of it, she turned to face the front as Mr Olau cleared his throat and began their lesson.

She had expected the tension to fill her shoulders, but for a refreshing change, it was absent. Even if she had gone through her classes earlier carefully censoring her hearing, it felt natural to be sitting here in Ancient History and blocking out everything else except for Gary's light snoring, Jonathan's even breathing, and the scratch of his and her pens scribbling across the lined pages. The silence between them was also fairly… calm.

Three minutes later, Jon Conte threw a folded note gently on top of her page. She reached for and opened it automatically without looking up from where she was reading a passage of text from the textbook.

_I heard that Delia was talking to you earlier. Are you OK? What did she tell you? —J_

Sighing, she took in his neat flawless black-penned handwriting and scrawled something she thought was rather legible for once. The bright blue ink set a stark contrast to his font-like script on the flat and creaseless lecture sheet. Randomly, she wondered how long it had been since he and Delia had broken up. Not that she particularly cared or anything. The news had just come suddenly, was all. And why was she even explaining that to herself?

**Nothing to worry about. She offered to help with the rumour thing.**

She folded the note carelessly and—when Mr Olau had his head bent to refer back to the textbook in his arm—flipped it back to Blue Eyes with practised ease. It returned soundlessly forty seconds later.

_That's new. But if you're sure. Anyway, you're pretty quiet and relaxed amidst the obvious and non-subtle commentaries going on around us. —J_

There he went again with his flowery words. Who even wrote—let alone said—'amidst' these days? The guy was reading too much Shakespeare or something. She'd probably have to introduce him to some new and better hobbies or else they'd have a boring old time in future. This was her "trying to be genuine", "being less selfish", et freaking cetera.

**It's called turning a blind ear. Besides, if Gary here could snore any louder… the monks in Tibet would hear him. But do share some of the stories being spun right now as we pass notes. Nothing will shock me any longer I don't think.**

_Here's a few to add to the list of things we're supposedly doing:  
1. Passing notes to each other about where we'll be meeting after school for a date.  
2. Fuelling new theories that we're fighting with each other because now that our relationship has been broadcasted, the "sizzle" and "mojo" between us has evaporated.  
3. Communicating love notes because we don't want Gary or Mr. O to hear or see what we're talking about.  
4. Purposely passing notes to avoid giving more information about us to our fellow friends.  
5. Scheming ways to deal with Delia and break her heart more.  
6. Discussing strenuous tactics that have nothing to do with sport. This last one came from some the guys behind us. _

**4 sounds the closest to the truth. And I'll ignore the rest, but it's still all unbelievable and pathetic. Peepz should really start getting lives. Everything was normal before this.**

_I agree. Mr Olau's about to start open discussion. Best to wake up Gary._

She crumpled the paper in her hands quietly and stuffed it under her leg after Jonathan's last reply. She'd have to throw it in the trash can on her way out. She glanced casually around the room but avoided catching anyone's eyes. Nearly all—if not completely all—her peers were chatting amongst themselves (and no doubt gossiping). She puffed a cheek when she found the back of Francis' head. It seemed like he was the only one besides her and Jonathan (and even the two of them were only quasi-listening) paying attention to Mr Olau. Straightening her left arm horizontally across the desk, she sent it flying swiftly and elbowed the sleeping Naxen hard so that he jerked up violently. His surprised yelp must have come out voiceless because she didn't hear a peep from him except for the sound of paper being ripped away from where it had stuck to his cheek.

"Morning sleeping beauty,"

He glared. "Shut the hell up, _short-stuff._"

Her only response was to point and Ha! in his face once she saw the paper crease lines imprinted across his face. And s_hort-stuff?_ Seriously, the guy could try to be a little more creative the next time around.

* * *

As she sat lazily in Principal Conte's huge black leather chair behind his desk and listened to her iPod, her eyes darted towards the clock on the opposite wall. It had been twenty-minutes now since school had ended and they would finally get to go home soon. Her stomach had been protesting for ages and it deserved to be fed after a particularly long and _enlightening_ day.

She was also disappointed that she didn't get the time to find Miri and Dee and shove some truths up where the sun remarkably didn't shine.

She was glad, however, that she didn't have work until her shift on Thursday night because she wasn't exactly too enthusiastic about facing her manager—and possibly workmates—after they had graciously let her "take as much time" as she needed after the news of her engagement reached them as well. She was reasonably confident that her manager was being so nice and understanding because once Al resumed work regularly again, people would be coming into the place to check out the new Conte bride-to-be.

Yuck.

Mind repelling the words "bride-to-be", her interest turned towards Jon Conte. He was going through the contents of his bag and was currently uncapping then recapping his pens and highlighters. Beguiled, she continued to observe as he re-zipped his black pencil case, returned it inside his bag, took out his water bottle and unscrewed the top. In the same routinely fashion, he screwed the top back on, placed the bottle back and then zipped up the bag.

He felt around the smaller front pocket, checked his wallet and restored it before closing the bag securely. He set the backpack near his feet after making sure he had everything. Rolling her eyes at his perfectionist habits, she was about to ask her twin again if he was absolutely certain that he had no food in his bag—and wasn't lying to her—when the God reached for his bag again, unzipped it, took out his pencil case and repeated the entire process she had just witnessed in the same exact order.

The Conte heir was so engrossed in his task that he didn't discern Al wearing the same slightly distressed frown that highlighted his aristocratic face. Weirded out, Al dismissed the sight and turned to her brother.

Thom was slouched on the black sofa in the room, ignorant—like always—of the things happening around him. His eyes were a little unfocused; an indicator that he was miles away in his la-la genius land. He was looking forward to finally getting to ride in the Conte's limousine since Principal Conte had arranged for the four of them to leave together.

Tuesday nights seemed to be the chosen time slot for their infamous family dinners. Since dinner would be earlier than its customary time that evening (something about there being more to talk about, and without fail… dissect) and Thom's car was being serviced (Al cynically wondered if her brother had thought ahead and apart from his genius musings for once—and engineered for the car to be _conveniently _unavailable on this afternoon), it "made sense", according to the parents, for Thom and Al to just go with Jonathan and his father to their mansion.

Al failed to see the point of her forced hunger. That morning, she had been picked up _much _earlier than she was up on a weekday by Principal Conte and Jonathan (in the limo) so that they could beat the other students and avoid making a commotion when they arrived at school at their usual time. The same logic applied presently—except that they were waiting out (or in Al's opinion: hiding out in the Principal's office) the student body's mass exit to circumvent creating a scene, traffic jam or accident in the parking lot.

She was re-adjusting her baseball cap when Roald walked back into the office with a relieved grin. "The limo's waiting, guys. Time to go."

"Finally," Al heard Thom whisper to his tall friend. Al crossed her arms. The limo didn't make sense either. Once it drove out of school grounds, people would know right away that they were in there. Trooping out of the abandoned hallway, she brushed past Thom and Jonathan and strode quickly to the shiny black vehicle that was stretched across four parking spaces.

You could never be sure. After all, the school had eyes and ears everywhere, right? Who knew what stupid rumour they'd create this time.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I quite liked this chapter! My appreciation to Anonymus, Arieyu, Grace and **Preethi** for reviewing the previous chapter.

**Template Review:**

Dear Verasque,

I think Delia is so (fill in blank)! I (can/can't) see why she's become one of your fave characters to write in this story. And Numair seems so (fill in blank). Try to update more often and Jon may just become yours in the end!

Cheers :) (fill in your name)


	10. Basketball Game

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Ten: Basketball Game**

* * *

Despite the deafening buzz of the rapidly-filling bleachers, Al sat alone on the second row and jiggled her knee impatiently. She hardly ever came to basketball games since she never really got hooked into it. Swimming, soccer and volleyball already took up a lot of her time—and if not, then she was at work scrapping every cent she could. The fact that she was even there on a Friday night was a feat in itself.

Sometime in the past fortnight, Al had given up protesting against Mrs Conte's reminders and her father's demands that she spend time with Jonathan outside of school. They had gone bowling together once so far and the whole experience had been rather creepy. Everyone there, from the employees to the group of middle-aged women in the aisle beside them, had been trying to discreetly watch them throughout their entire game. In their second round, Thom had twirled around and glared at anyone he encountered looking back at him. Alex, as cool as ever, had watched with a careful eye and imitated his best friend's brooding silence to perfection.

Al was glad when no reporters were sighted the whole time, but was dismayed to open up her computer later that evening to find a photo of her and Jonathan sitting together at the bowling alley on the school's gossip column.

She knew that there would be more than a hundred eyes on her tonight. Across the court sat a row of reporters that Principal Conte had warned her about in advance. "Try to ignore them and don't do any thing rash" seemed to be a useless piece of advice. Though Al knew she wasn't the main attraction when compared to the game between Corus High and Carthak Academy, she wasn't as dumb as to miss the way that the cameras flashed as soon as she so much as re-tied her ponytail or craned her neck to search out _anyone_ she might even be familiar with in the stands.

The bright lights took some getting used to as it was yet another assault on one of her senses. The game hadn't even begun yet and the crowd was loud and boisterous. She heard a couple of people enter the row she was sitting in from her left. She stiffened when she recognised the six tall guys from Tusaine Prep's varsity team. Dain Melor, their infamous captain, sat the closest to her. Dressed in all black, he grinned lecherously while surveying the courts.

Though they spoke amongst themselves, Al felt a tiny nervous flutter in the pit of her gut. What the hell were they doing here? If it was to reiterate their status as the winning State Champions from the previous year, then they really were full of it. Even Al knew that the rivalry between their school and Tusaine was fierce and epic that it was almost tradition.

But deliberately coming to a game that was not theirs to participate in was plain infuriating and _plain stupid_. She knew the hackles would rise as soon as the players stepped onto the court twicefold: for it was not only Corus High that held an agitation towards Tusaine Prep, but Carthak Academy also. Nibbling on her thumb, she narrowed her eyes when Dain Melor looked her over and then rolled his eyes before paying his attention to his buddies.

Scooting over to her right, she gladly welcomed the large space between them and turned her back in Dain Melor's direction. Looking around, she observed her surroundings. Unlike her swimming comps, the bleachers were almost filled to the rim except for the row she sat in and the one in front. She saw an equal amount of parents and younger kids balance out the large numbers of students that showed up for this game.

She spotted a few faces that she knew but didn't greet them in case it brought her any unwanted attention. But most people ignored her anyway, a notion that she approved of and delighted in secretly inside. While there was still plenty of talk about her, the speculations had lessened and the school body had resigned themselves to the fact that The Tomboy was attached to their God. She didn't doubt that it'd let up soon, though, as both Jonathan _and_ Delia informed her. Jonathan Conte was always "hot news"—in school and out.

She sent a grin to Mr Olau when she saw him enter the bleachers with Mr Naxen, the Vice Principal and Gary's father. They joined a group of adults—three of whom were also teachers, and two whom Al assumed were family members. Sitting upright, she sighed and tried not to be bored. There was only so much she could do in a setting she had never really familiarized herself with. She was contemplating the pros and cons of switching to basketball, when two girls slid into the space directly beside her from the right.

"You're here!"

Confusing the excited voice for Tay's, Al was surprised to find Cythera and her friend Gwyn sitting so close to The Tomboy. Cythera she could understand. But Gwyn's friendly salute made her swallow. It was only over a month ago that they would have ignored her and she them.

"Hey," she murmured, suddenly conscious of herself. Both the other two girls were dressed in blue and grey; the colours of their school. Cythera was wearing a royal blue basketball jersey with with a huge 3 on the front. Al guessed that the name 'Naxen' was printed on the back in block white letters.

"So this is new," Cythera chattered. "Are you excited for the game?"

Al shrugged. She didn't really know the answer herself. Doug was out on a date and Thom was at home playing on the Xbox 360 with his newly made friends from his new job. It had made sense earlier for her to come to the game rather than to stay at home and surf the net.

Gwyn offered Al some lollies that she gladly took. "Why is Dain and his friends here, _again_?"

Cythera was frowning. "Because they're jerks. Just ignore them. I hope to God that they'll stay quiet during the game."

"I think they will," Gwyn countered. "After all, Jon's playing tonight. And Dain respects that."

"Ugh!" Cythera whined in distaste. Following her gaze, Al saw Josaine and four of her cronies setting up their presentation—because there really wasn't any other word to describe it—four rows up. They were all dressed in white tank tops with a letter spelling out K-I-N-G-S on the front in huge blue paint.

"They get that hyped up just for a Friday night game that isn't even the finals yet?" Al asked in bewilderment.

Cythera snorted. "Josaine's posse consider themselves the team's personal muse."

"That's lame, man. There are already cheerleaders."

"Totally," Gwyn agreed and offered more lollies. At this rate, it would be finished before the game even started. Al didn't regret arriving early. "But they didn't dare do this when Delia was around. Now that you're with Jon, Josaine thinks she's better than everyone because Delia 'didn't last' and she might have a chance. Thing is, she's too dumb to understand that Delia and Jon are still on very good terms, and that Delia's only taking a small break from the spotlight."

Now that was _another_ something to think about. The Queen Bee and the God always did have a strangely close relationship. Perhaps two intense, attention-drawing, sex-seeking people such as them just naturally stuck together. Even if they weren't dating (a term Al used loosely), they still seemed to keep in touch regularly.

More than her and Jonathan anyway, she deduced.

Whoa! Where did _that _thought come from!?

Shaking her head, she moved her legs like her companions as a couple of parents squeezed in front to get to the free seats on her right. They apologised kindly, and the last two—clearly their daughters—widened their eyes when they recognised Al. She averted her eyes quickly in both embarrasment and frustration. _Get over it! _she wanted to scream. _Yes The Tomboy is here to watch the game!_

She listened to Cythera and Gwyn talk for a couple more minutes before the crowds suddenly erupted into shrill screaming. Al covered her ears immediately and watched as the players from both sides entered the court from opposite ends. The introductions of the announcers were drowned out as soon as the cheerleaders got the stadium rumbling two different chants. One for the Kings, and the other for the Carthaki Suns.

"_Thunder! Thunder! Thunderation! We're the Corus Kings generation!_"

Al gritted her teeth as soon as Cythera jumped onto her seat and started stamping and shrieking at the top of her lungs for Number 3. Instantly, Gary, Raoul and Zach looked up and laughed as they recognised Gary's girlfriend driving herself crazy with excitement and fury. As soon as they spotted Al inconspicuously trying to protect her ears, she groaned at their sudden grins. Raoul broke away from them and walked over to the guy wearing Jersey 23 who was bent down filling out a form. After Raoul said something to him, 23 looked up and Al froze.

"OH MY GOSSSHHHH!! JOOON!" Al could hear several girls screeching.

It was bad enough to be caught actually attending the game, but when Jonathan saw for himself that she was there in the bleachers… her stomach fluttered strangely, like it was hungry. It wasn't only the surprised look in his eyes, but the _very _short buzz cut he had gotten in the time since she last saw him hours earlier.

She was unable to really focus on anything except for his new haircut. Was that why he left school straight after their history class? In the few seconds they stared at each other—Al in puzzlement and Jonathan in surprise—it slipped into her mind that his short hair made him seem more… attractive then he already was. And she meant it in the most objective way possible! The sound of a whistle shattered their moment, however, and Al bit her lip when she saw the tiny quirk of his lips before he focused his attention on his team.

"Wow!" Cythera nudged her and Al looked at the other girl. She must have looked like a git because Cythera then asked, "What's the matter?"

Al shook her head. _I have no idea! _"Uh, nothing. That just never really happened before." What did it mean? That was more than just a simple greeting between Jonathan and her, she was sure of it.

Cythera probably didn't have a clue as to what Al was rambling about. Al was going to wave off her comment to avoid explaining, when Cythera surprised her by laying a friendly hand on her shoulder. "That was a good sign."

"A what?" Al asked.

Cythera giggled at her little secret. "Nothing, nothing! Ooh, the game's going to start!"

Al glared in suspicion. _I hate stupid vague stuff!_

"Conte! Conte! Conte!"

_Ugh, and screaming crowds!_

* * *

It was during half-time when Al finally got the chance she'd been waiting for.

She had just finished buying herself a can of Root Beer from one of the four vending machines on the school's ground level. Granted, she had to wait in a line but at least it wasn't as long as the others she had already passed. She had asked Cythera and Gwyn before she left if they wanted anything, but both girls had declined because they had brought their own Diet Coke. Al just grunted and made a note to remember to bring her own food and drinks the next time around.

There probably would be a next time, she admitted to herself. The first two quarters of the game had been far more interesting than she expected and now that she knew some of the players on a personal level, she believed that it was, to some extent, worthwhile watching. Who knew? Depending on how the second half ran… maybe she'd ask Raoul to teach her some moves. But in reality, she knew it would be wiser to ask Jonathan.

Because not only was he a point guard; he was also her fiance_. _But for reasons unknown—though she suspected it was pride—she didn't want to ask him. Just like with other things. Even though they were friends now, the heavy chunk of gold that was currently hanging on the chain around her neck seperated their kind of friendship from the ones she shared with Doug, Tay and Cythera, or Gary and the other guys.

Undoubtedly, their friendship wasn't normal because a friend (her) wasn't meant to dream of drunken kisses from their other friend (him) while they bizarrely baked a birthday cake for Bug in her linen closet without a light on.

Twisting the pull-tab, she relished the hissing sound before taking a large sip as she moved back towards the direction of the basketball hall. She was half-way there when Al stopped mid-step and stared transfixedly as a brunette with long hair stood next to a taller black girl with shining black hair. They were speaking excitedly and looking at the photos on the digital camera that the taller girl was holding.

Before she knew it, Al was striding forward towards them with a firm grip on her soda can. When their heads lifted at the sound of her steps, they both looked frozen to see _her_ of all people coming to them. They recovered quickly and beamed as if they had been good acquaintances for years.

"Hi Al!" The brunette waved just before her smile turned into a scream as Al pulled her can up high into the air and watched with satisfaction as her root beer soared and fell all over Dee Longlake's gossipy self.

_Schadenfreude, dickhead. _She turned to Miri's shocked and outraged face. _Watch what you write or you'll be next._

"You freaking _bitch!_" the gossip-monger yelled. That, alongside Dee's pathetic sobbing was like music to Al's ears. "Why would you do something like this! _Oh god!_"

Hmm, so many sinners were going to hell for saying God's name in vain tonight. Al took a loud drink as she started to walk away. "Because…" she explained patiently over her shoulder, "I thought you finally deserved something _true _to blog about."

* * *

As she made her way through the bleachers, Al resisted the urge to scratch inside her nose. It wasn't that she was ashamed or embarrassed to—she did it in public sometimes anyway—but the thought of seeing a picture of her doing so on the newspaper tomorrow morning or on the internet made her rethink. She doubted that her father or Principal and Mrs Conte would be too happy to read the front-page headline "Conte Bride: Sideline Nosepicker?" so early in the day.

And everyone would have it wrong. She wasn't _picking _her nose, she was just easing an itch—one she frequently got after 'causing a scene' (as Mr Naxen liked to call her quests of justice), or in wacky scenarios when she passed by that incredibly magnificent but eerily scary woman around town that Bug liked to visit when she was gone. Now that was a woman who surpassed Tay's beauty twenty times over, and convinced Al that she could be prone to hallucinating and conjuring up ghosts.

When she had asked her brother or father about her, they all called her an idiot because if they had seen her, then Al would know it by then. "Gee," Thom had mocked, "the whole bloody town would be talking about her! Better looking than Tay Wilima? Please! Tay is peerless."

And what the hell did peerless mean anyway?

"Yo, Al!" A familiar voice called out, and Al was broken from her reflections.

"Oh, Nate."

The taller boy laughed. "What are you doing here, shortie? I thought you didn't dabble in basketball."

She made a face. "I don't. But it's my duty because of Jonathan…"

"Ah, of course." He was wise in not saying anything else. That was what she liked about Nate Salmalin. Not only was he smart, and down-to-earth with a good sense of humour, he also knew when to speak and when to shut up. Al found that she could unburden everything onto him during their shared study hall periods.

In many ways, he reminded her of a brighter, more friendly and more open version of Alex.

"Nummy, is it finished yet? I wanna go home," a small voice whined. Instantly, Al was on alert.

Nate turned to his other side and leaned down. "Not yet, Vera. Just another twenty minutes and then we can go, alright?"

_Oh crap. He brought the little monster who wanted my M&Ms. _Al came up with an excuse in less than a second."Er, my friends," whoops! Cythera and Gwyn just unknowingly got voted to suffer for the rest of their lives, "are probably wondering where I am. I'll see ya!" Without waiting for an answer, she hopped down the steps and found her row. She rudely bumped into knees and stepped on feet before she finally dropped into her seat.

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Gwyn asked and then dissolved into chuckles. Al suspected it was more to do with actually saying the question than wanting to know Al's answer. Al just stuck her tongue out and apologized to Cythera for stepping on her toes. It wasn't her fault that she wasn't naturally good-mannered. Especially not around girls.

Great. So now she sounded gay. Whatever. Al sighed and looked at the scoreboard again. They were leading by eight points. They might have the advantage, but Carthak were good and two quarters still remained. The thought led Al to look over to her left to spy on Dain Melor and Co. who were still there. They were still talking amongst themselves and Al was impressed that they hadn't tried to distract the game.

No doubt the boys on the court had already seen them, but at least Gary and Zach didn't look as agitated as she remembered them being the last time they complained about Dain Melor at the game against Wilcox. Al hoped that the peace-thing lasted until well after the game. Plus, as Gwyn had explained to Cythera earlier, Dain Melor and Jonathan were mutual associates. If not for the God, then Corus High and Tusaine Prep would have shed blood and landed a number of students each behind bars for a couple of days ages ago.

Fumbling in her jeans pocket, she fished out her cell and flipped it open to check if she had any missed calls. None registered, but she did have three text messages: one from Alex, another from Tay, and one from her voicemail inbox.

_**I can't believe you ditched my soccer game for basketball. **_

Smirking, Al easily relaxed and typed back.

_**Suck it up, dude. It's not like I get to play anyway. At least here getting my ear drums busted keeps me awake.**_

She hit send and scrolled down to open Tay's message. That girl had been calling and texting her more often than she used to ever since she started going out with George.

_**Hi Al! You're coming with me tomorrow after you finish work. Pick you up at 2! Bye xox**_

Al cussed impolitely under her breath. Trust Tay to make plans for them without consulting her first. While it was cute, Al dreaded spending "girl time" with her new "girlfriend". She often wondered why Tay chose to spend so much time with her, when she had hundreds of other equally feminine friends, and decided resolutely to ask the girl tomorrow. Tay would probably have a silly reason such as being the one to remind Al of her womanly side. As if Al needed a cue! She was painfully reminded for a week every month.

She chose not to reply after half a minute of deliberating. What could she say to that anyway? She'd probably have to suffer through shopping or something, but at least Tay was Tay and had wormed her shy, girly way into Al's affections. As long as George didn't come with them (Al could only stand so much PDA—and with her cousin involved too—_vomit_) then Al would go with a genuine attempt to refrain from whining too much.

"Hello Alanna. This is Lianne. I was just calling to inform you that you'll be attending mass with us on Sunday morning at eleven. I trust that you'll dress your best and be ready by twenty to. Now, enjoy your weekend and we'll see you then!"

Well that just royally sucked. Even with the clamour around her, Al still heard Mrs Conte's voice as clear as if she had shouted in Al's small ear.

* * *

Gwyn was packing up her and Cythera's things into her canvas bag when Al heard a few girls giggling and knew instantly that the God was approaching. Lifting her head, she found Jonathan directly in front of her on the edge of the courts. Trying hard not to stare below his shoulders, she gave him her first grin of the night.

"Close game," she commented.

He smiled wryly. "They were good. I was overconfident to think that we had it in the last minute." He shifted awkwardly and she realised that he was probably discomfited at their loss.

She unconsciously strode to alleviate his embarrassment. "You would have won if they didn't get that three-pointer in the basket during the last four seconds."

"Yeah. It'll just take a while to sink in." He slung a towel around his shoulders and wiped some of the sweat on his forehead. "How are you getting home?"

She waved her cell up. "Calling Thom to come pick me up."

"Don't waste your credit. Wait for me and I'll drop you home."

She could feel Dain Melor staring at them from her left, and Cythera and Gwyn watching from her right. _Why did they have to stare?_ Jonathan didn't seem bothered by it. His attention was focused wholly on her as people exited the bleachers. She hooked her thumbs in her belt loops and nodded. "How long?"

"Twenty minutes tops. I'll just take a shower. I'll meet you here. Cyth... can you wait with her?"

"Of course! I'll be happy too," the blonde chided him. "Can you just remind Gary to actually _soap _up too?"

Jonathan laughed. "Yeah no worries. See you girls in a bit. Gwyn," he nodded before walking over to the side and greeting Dain Melor. The two boys slapped hands and exchanged a few words before Dain pointed two of his fingers first to his eyes, then to Jon. His point was clear: they were watching.

Dain's group broke up after that and headed for the exit, while Jon walked back across the court to get to the change rooms. By then, the courts were already empty except for Al, Cyth and Gwyn, and a couple parents from the Carthak Academy side and several girls flitting around.

"You are so lucky, Trebond!" Gwyn gushed. "Not only because Jon Conte is yours, but because you get to ride home in that yummy Porsche!"

Al's mouth went sour. Jonathan wasn't _hers_. They were just two unfortunate souls who had to get through the next year as smoothly as possible. He was free to do whatever the hell he wanted.

"Look at those girls," Cythera remarked in a tone more acidic than Al had ever heard. "Why don't they just go home and leave other girls' boyfriends alone?"

"That's what happens when you date someone like Gary," Al bluntly pointed out.

Cythera pouted. "Most of them are waiting for Jon, Al. If you don't do something soon then they'll think its okay to drape themselves all over him. Aren't you worried?"

Al kept silent. She couldn't be. Her and Jon were friends, nothing more. So maybe they were engaged—but it was a forced arrangement. She didn't need more to think and worry about. Stubbornly, she lifted her chin proudly. "Not really."

Then why did she feel unhappy?

* * *

**Author's Note:** News and previews will be posted from now on my blog if you're interested (link in profile). Also, if you're following Vivat Regina - I've updated that recently if you were waiting. And lastly, my thanks to LadyKnight0207 and Sandy (both of whom I was unable to leave a review reply) for dropping a review! _**Next chapter:**_ Al & Tay's girltime, mass with the Contes, and the story behind Al and Delia's first arrangement.


	11. Lead Us Not Into Temptation

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Eleven: Lead Us Not Into Temptation**

* * *

Al studied Tay in fascination. Her friend was sitting opposite her while chewing on a piece of lettuce sensibly. Al had never seen anyone eat so neatly as this shy, innocuous girl who had promptly been waiting for her at 2 o'clock sharp.

Picking up her chicken burger, she stuffed two fries into her mouth before taking a bite into the divine cuisine. Soft sesame seed-covered bun and crispy tender chicken had never tasted so good.

"I envy you," Tay was saying. "You can eat all that and still remain so skinny."

Al eyed the Caesar salad and fish fillet in front of Tay and held in her disgust. "How can you eat that?"

"I just got used to it. Mama doesn't like fast food or take-away much."

"That's crazy!" she said bluntly, but remembered that most women in the elite societal circles dined in style and class. They followed Lianne Conte's example perfectly and with pride. "I don't know how I'd ever survive."

"That's you though, Al. You'll get accustomed to it soon enough."

Al swallowed. "What does that mean?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Tay asked softly. When Al only looked at her blankly, Tay sighed. "You're going to be spending a lot of time with Jon. Dining and socializing are also included in that. I know Mr and Mrs Conte are pretty old fashioned, so you can definitely rule out KFC or Chinese for dinner. I heard they even have their own chefs to choose from!"

So she was going to be left to eat grass and… that caviar stuff? "But I need to have proper meat!" Swimming and volleyball required her to maintain a somewhat normal menu. How would she function properly without all the protein and carbohydrates that she got from burgers and snacks?

"You're so silly," Tay chuckled. "Of course you'll have proper meat. Just not served with what you're used to eating."

Al took a loud sip of her Coke and Tay got the message. Al needed more time to think about this and personally evaluate how much she'd be sacrificing once she didn't get to eat fries and burgers and normal food every other day. Such issues were always important to Alanna Trebond.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence and then Al bought herself and Tay soft cones from McDonalds "for dessert" despite the other girl's protests. When they got up from their table, Al hooked her bag across her shoulders and ignored the way that the top of her head only reached Tay's chin.

They roamed around for ten minutes as Tay cooed occasionally at things she found cute or pretty in the store windows. Al herself hadn't found anything interesting that caught her attention, but she did marvel at the endless amount of people they bumped into that seemed to know her companion.

"Is there anyone you _don't _know?" she huffed.

Tay grinned and revealed her perfect pearly whites. "A lot of people! I only know most of those people just then because my parents are associates with theirs."

"That'd be such a chore. I can't imagine ever—never mind." A knock rapped on her brain soundly. She herself had become acquainted with too many people in the past few weeks, and she doubted it would stop any time soon. She still had Jon's extended family to meet after all, and that probably included friends of the Contes that mingled with them regularly.

Could someone remind her as to _why _she had agreed to this engagement again?

Oh hadn't agreed; how stupid of her to forget that she had been _forced._

"No one's expecting you to change how you are," Tay informed her. Well, Al thought. Was the girl a mind-reader, or what? "At least, not much anyway. So cheer up! We're here."

_Here?_

Al's eyes widened when she looked up and found a most despicable sign.

"Whatever happened to 'not changing who I am'?" she accused. Tay only turned red in reply.

* * *

"That wasn't so bad!" The Enemy insisted an hour later as Al power-walked her way to the exit. The faster she got out of there: the better!

"Aaaaallllll," The Enemy whined.

Al snarled in distress. "You're more devious than I thought, Taylor Wilima! I can't believe you actually paid for that in advance just so I would do it." Al refused to listen to the voice in her mind that pointed out that she had been craftily guilt-tripped. _You're such a loser to have fallen for it! _the voice continued.

Tay twisted the silver necklace around her neck and it distracted Al for a split second enough for Tay to lay an imploring hand on her arm. "But you look even better because of it."

Al folded her arms over chest. "It was a violation."

"It was a haircut!" Tay cried and Al could have wept in despair.

"That's _why!"_

"Hey!" A security guard barked from behind them. It startled Tay and caused the taller girl's chest to bump straight into Al's face. "Keep it down, ladies. Don't want to keep ya for disrupting others."

Tay twirled backward to clasp her hands in front of her in remorse and mortification. She was clearly oblivious to Al—whose slight antagonism had turned into offense at the way Tay's clearly developed boobs had bumped her nose. _Sheesh! Just _rub _it my face. _"I'm deeply sorry, sir. We hadn't realized how loud we were getting. My friend and I are just leaving now," Tay said in a surprisingly clear and levelled voice.

Without warning, Tay grasped Al's elbow strongly and pulled her quickly after.

"I can get there myself, you know," Al told her.

The Enemy let go and took a deep breath. She appeared to be trying to relax herself. "As I was saying, the cut suits you. After some blow-drying, it'll be as good as new!"

"Why did you do this? I'm not inclined to believe that you'd just arrange and pay for me to get a haircut at _Chitral's Quick Snips _just because you're my friend."

"I thought you needed a change, that's all."

There was something fishy going on. Tay wasn't the kind of friend to do this kind of thing out of the blue. Not unless…

"Who got you to do this?" Who wanted to chop off her long, lanky (and dull) hair?

Tay's eyes averted quickly, but not quick enough. Aha! Al crowed inside. "Who, Tay?"

"No one did!" At Al's unimpressed expression, Tay's shoulder sagged. "Mrs Conte."

Al tapped her foot on the linoleum floor of the mall. Somehow, it didn't surprise her. "I would have done it eventually if she'd asked me. It's not like I'm attached to my hair or whatever." It _had _needed a trimming anyway. It was probably full of those splitting-ends that Cythera kept nattering on about before homeclass. But the hairdresser lady didn't have to cut off that much.

"Would you have really?" The Enemy asked and then faded as she turned back into Al's sly, but understanding pal.

Al pouted. "No. Dammit, but now I sort of look like a thing. Lianne was probably aiming for that anyhow." And the woman knew to ask Tay to get the job done.

"A thing?"

"You know… likeagirl."

Tay giggled and Al noticed the admiring male glances that were sent their way because of the green-eyed creature beside her. "It must be horrifying for you," Tay said shyly.

"As long as none of that chalk goes on my face or anything, then I'll be alright. I have a worn a dress before, you know." And it was one of the most degrading (and not to mention) painful experiences of Al's seventeen years. The people she considered family—namely Thom and George—hadn't let her live it down for weeks after. She shuddered just recalling it.

Tay put a sympathetic arm around her stiff shoulders. "I don't think they'll be expecting that much. You just have to dress well tomorrow. Mass is always a solemn time, and they'll more than likely be introducing you to some important family members. Though, we might need to pluck those bushes you have for eyebrows!"

Al glared and shrugged Tay's long arm off. "No way are you or anyone going to be _plucking _a single thing off my face. Everyone's lucky that I'm not too worried about my hair... but that's as far as I'm letting this circus go!"

"Circus?"

"Shuddup. Don't you have a movie to watch with George?"

"Really? I don't remember…"

"Well, you do now. Call him and tell him that I want to go home."

* * *

Al hadn't thought of how important attending church would be for the Contes. She knew they went; it was common knowledge that Roald Conte and his family were devoted Catholics, just like the many other high-profile families in Corus city. Al hadn't stepped inside a church since she was in fourth grade when her father had decided to pick up his travel-based career.

Thom and she had spent the rest of their pre-teen years hanging out at George's house on Sundays, with his mother—her Aunt Eleni—whipping up stacks of pancakes or creating artistic fruit smoothies and milkshakes for them to endlessly indulge in.

Instead of having Sunday brunch at country clubs like the Wilimas, Contes, Eldornes and Naxens… George, Thom, and her would snack on Twisties and Jellybeans while they wrestled, terrorized the neighbour's pet pigeons, or played "trenches and war" in Aunt Eleni's living room. Her aunt would be in the garage (that had been neatly refurbished to work as her GP clinic), completely oblivious to the racket going on inside her home.

Now, as Al sat on her front porch and watched as the impressive Honda CR-V Luxury pull into her driveway, she knew that her Sundays would change. Instead of lazy, relaxed mornings spent in front of the TV at Aunt Eleni's; it would be consumed at morning mass amongst a family that was not hers and in an environment that she barely tolerated.

Standing up, she consciously wiped the back of her pants and straightened the black cardigan thing that Tay had lent her. Checking to make sure she had her mobile and wallet, she made her way towards the jeep.

"My goodness," she heard Lianne whisper.

She smiled pleasantly at the knowledge that they would not be travelling in the limo with a host of chauffeurs. "Hello." And was that Principal Conte in the _driver's _seat? "It's just going to be us?"

They both ignored her question as they stared at her in puzzlement. Cracking a knuckle, she opened the back door and struggled to get into the vehicle.

"You look very nice, Alanna," Lianne gathered while her husband laughed at Al's attempts to champion the monster height of the car.

"Hold onto the handle there—yes—and jump."

Al grimaced, and tried two more times before she finally landed her butt on the seat. Checking the legs of her white jeans, she was bemused to see not a single dirt mark.

Lianne had turned around in her seat to inspect Al. "I knew I could trust Taylor. But next time, try to avoid wearing denim."

"There's plenty of time to fix those things," Roald placated his wife. Then he winked at Al through the rear-view mirror and she squirmed a little. It reminded her too much altogether of his son. "Your hair suits you, Al."

"Err, thanks." Al promptly turned her attention outside her window as they reversed from her driveway and got on their way. "Where's Jonathan?"

"He'll be meeting us there," Roald explained. "There were some last minute favours he had to do for his aunt—Gareth's wife."

From the backseat, Al saw Lianne pull out a small mirror and expertly (at least what Al _assumed _was expertly) applied a coat of lipstick on her mouth. Uninterested, she gave the vehicle a quick once over and smirked at the fact that Principal Conte knew how to drive. It was a detail she found worthy of noting.

Accordingly, public figures like Roald Conte, who had a host of staff to service him, was sort of normal too. Was this the kind of life and family that she was "marrying" into?

Francis had remarked to her the other day that when he thought about it, Al was more suitable to be the groom and Jonathan the bride. It made her feel odd when she thought about how quickly she had come to accept half the things that had happened to her ever since the small chat she had with Mr Olau.

But perhaps that was guilt too. She wasn't blind to some of the crude and spiteful things being said about the Contes now that they had "lowered their standards" and allowed "a ratty tomboy" who wasn't fit for their son—or their family—to enter their ranks. While it didn't offend her, she considered herself a lot smarter these days about her perception of this community around her.

The world of the rich and famous wasn't as shallow as she had believed.

While the non-rich and non-famous alleged that the elites were controlling them… people like the Contes were just in the same boat. They might not be restricted by money and power—but a family controlled by the legalities and senile wishes of their late patriarch and yet also by the media and scrutiny of those 'below' them—was that not politics in itself?

Focusing on the houses they drove past, Al's eyes narrowed as they slowed for the traffic lights and stopped in front of a colossal four-story mansion complete with pillars and a wrap-around veranda.

It was colonial and sat at the very centre of the intersection like a throne. Al knew that the name engraved trimly on the plaque beside the double front doors read _Eldorne._ She had only been to this place once before, roughly two years ago if she estimated right, but it had left a lasting and _confusing _impression on her.

Even at seventeen, Al still didn't know what Delia Eldorne had against her. It went beyond distaste for a girl who embodied everything Delia was not. And it couldn't be because Delia was jealous of her: that was absolutely ludicrous.

"We're nearly there," Principal Conte said in relief. Al sunk lower in her seat and wasn't too bothered that the action crinkled her ironed shirt.

_This will not be fun._

* * *

She was right. As soon as she stepped (read: leaped) out of the CR-V, many of the faces in the parking lot turned to look at her in curiosity. She saw a few expressions of wariness and aversion, and others of open humour.

This was, nevertheless, her first public event with the Contes as a four-unit family.

Tugging her shirt and cardigan down, she resisted the habit of adjusting her baseball cap whenever she entered a place. There was no hat today, only dark red hair that did her no favours in terms of eluding attention. She briefly contemplated getting her hair cut even shorter in the hopes of resembling her brother much more. But Lianne would have her head and she wasn't partial to exposing her neck or her face.

While long hair was traditionally the mark of ladies and feminine girls, Al found that it concealed the parts of her that she deemed personal. Neck, face, shoulders. Even when she mainly tied it up into a ponytail—her long hair had been a trademark consolation and comfort… like a teddy-bear of sorts.

_Not _that she liked or owned a teddy bear.

Rubbing the soles of her barely-used black flats on the cement, her awareness was irritatingly drawn immediately to the sight of a familiar midnight-blue Porsche parking smoothly in the space besides the CR-V.

When its driver's raven-haired head popped up, Al grunted. The loud noise of the doors being locked grated on her ears mockingly and she racked her eyes quickly over Jonathan's approaching figure. The black slacks and light-blue dress shirt were awfully fitting.

He went to greet her but Al felt a tiny bit smug at the way his eyebrows shot to his hairline. "Good morning, _Alanna,_" he said quickly and turned to whisper something in his mother's ear.

Lianne smiled vaguely and patted her son on the arms gently. "We'll be fine. Don't take too long."

Jonathan faced her again. "You look… different. No dress?"

She scowled. "You have a better chance at killing me first." She shifted uncomfortably as the boy opposite her stared at her shoulder-length locks.

"Is your hair that naturally straight?"

Her eyes darted around at the people milling around to view them like a soap opera. "Would you quit staring?" she seethed. "And since when did my hair concern you anyway?"

If he was surprised by her sudden fire—he didn't show it. The idiot probably knew that it was to cover her embarrassment.

"You always have it tied up. And it looks _good _different. The fringe was a nice touch."

Her jaw dropped. "You're shitting me! Geez, it was just a haircut!" Twirling around, she rushed to the closest car and checked her appearance in its reflection to make sure it didn't make her look funny. She fussed around with her fringe, but it refused to cooperate.

It fell over her purple eyes to the side and remained as straight and _friggin' shiny _as the red hair that just touched her shoulders in a straight, clean line.

Crap. "I look like a girl." At least before she looked like a masculine girl. Why didn't anyone warn her that cutting off nine-inches of dry, dull hair and adding in a fringy-thing would make her a freak!

"Are you finished admiring yourself?" Jonathan quipped from behind her. "I need you to put the ring on so we can go inside and actually attend the service."

She ignored him. She was too busy looking this way and that. The lace-and-satin violet shirt had short sleeves and had a string on the sides that tied at the front into a ribbon-like contraption. It brushed the top of her white jeans—that proudly sported her new bling-belt from Doug—and she regretted following Lianne's order to keep the black cardigan-jacket in the car.

It wasn't that hot outside, was it? It was only late September.

Jonathan cleared his throat. "Today, Cinderella."

"Alright, dude," she huffed. "Hold your horses. And I wasn't _admiring _myself. I was simply checking my appearance and making sure there wasn't anything strange on my face."

"Why would there be? Your face is already strange." Was that humour in his deadpan expression?

Her eyes narrowed. "If that's so, then you should stop smiling. It makes my eyes hurt. Oh! And don't wear blue. It makes you look repulsive." _Yeah, smooth comeback, Al, _a sarcastic voice jibed. But what she had said was true! His smile and his shirt were mashing her insides to a point that she thought she would be nauseous.

He grinned. The action emphasised the smooth jaw-line that had not a single prickle of hair and showcased his most annoying feature: the dimple on his right cheek.

Looking away, she bitched about life under her breath as she unhooked the gold chain from around her neck. Undoing the clasp, she let the solid gold ring fall into her palm at the same time that Jonathan fished his out of his pocket.

The smooth red ruby and intricate gold cat design stared back at her tenaciously. Al could still hardly believe that the two promise rings she had snooped around and found in her father's study a month ago now resided on the fourth finger of her and Jonathan's hands.

The same rings commissioned by Jasson Conte in his final years. Al didn't doubt the old man's senility.

"Ready to face an hour of sermons?" Jonathan questioned, before he approached his car once again to check the doors and his own pockets. Not knowing how he would react if she pointed out that she was already aware of his condition, she chose to wait patiently as he unlocked, then relocked his car three times.

By the time he was done, she was pretending to admire the physical patterns of the church. She heard his sigh of relief that she hadn't noted anything out of the ordinary. Shaking her head, she silently reprimanded him for not knowing her enough by now that she wouldn't intentionally pick on his OCD.

She might be rough, but she wasn't cruel. And especially not to people who didn't deserve it.

She walked beside him easily as they made their way to the church's entry. "I thought it was more to face a pack of tigers for an hour while in holy ground."

He chuckled. "Figures you'd see it that way."

She replied by poking her tongue out at him. Jonathan Conte was easy to please, but in a difficult way.

* * *

"_Blessed are you Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness, we have this bread to offer, which earth has given and human hands have made. It will become for us, the bread of life._"

Al looked straight ahead and replied automatically, "Blessed be God forever".

"_Blessed are you Lord, God of all creation. Through your goodness we have this wine to offer, fruit of the vine and work of human hands. It will become for us, our spiritual drink._"

"Blessed be God forever. I had no idea that you knew any of this," Gary whispered into her ear from her left.

She didn't dare spare him a glance in fear that the hundreds of eyeballs behind her would zero in. "I used to go to church when I was little," well _little-er_, "so it's a sweet deal that I can actually still remember."

Mr Naxen made a polite sound from Gary's other side to prompt them into being quiet and solemn again. Al obeyed without complaint. Even though she didn't remember mass being this strict (maybe it was just the change of church?), she kept her body still and her breathing relaxed.

It was one of the hardest challenges she had ever faced.

But the familiar presence of being ensconced between two of her friends gave her reprieve. Though, being stuck between two towering giants (_again_)wasn't her ideal vision—with Jon on her right and Gary on her left—she felt special in a sense being in the middle of the Contes and the Naxens. The seven of them took up and had a pew all to themselves right at the front, save for the four old matriarch-like old women before them.

"_Let us pray with confidence to the Father in the words our Saviour gave us._"

Schooling her face like stone, she hesitantly lifted her hands and gripped the hand on either side of her. As she recited the prayer she knew since birth, she squeezed the cold hand of Corus High's resident entertainer as he playfully gripped hers tightly.

Moving her left foot to the side, she raised it gently and crushed the foot soundlessly. Gary gave an evident twitch and turned a glare at her from the corner of his eyes before he loosened his grip. She knew that he'd rather have Cythera here, but she doubted they would be demurely holding hands. Those two were like frisky dogs in heat.

Great. Now her name would definitely be engraved on the book for future Hell-residents. Having such indirect impure thoughts was not appropriate. Leaning to her right, she froze when the warm hand of her partner-in-engagement-crime shifted to better slide their fingers together.

Throat swallowing nervously, she focused on the blessed words she was saying and tried to block out the flesh beneath her hands. "Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us…"

What the f---.

Why weren't the air conditioners turned up cooler? At the rate mass was going; she'd be sweating buckets by the time it was over. A painful sensation was tickling her left arm and moving rapidly to the rest of her as if her nerves had been shoved into an electric socket. It reminded her of that time in second grade when she had accidentally electrocuted Thom and herself.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Were they supposed to let go now?


	12. Boyfriend

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Twelve: Boyfriend**

* * *

Jonathan's room was easily as large as her kitchen and living room put together. It followed the same airy and impeccable layout as the rest of the Conte mansion, but contained a lot of quirky objects that Al never expected to be in there.

There was a soaring black timber bookshelf that covered one entire wall, its contents filled with books that varied from biographies to fantasy novels, and encyclopaedias to tomes of mythology. There was a shelf filled with sporting magazines, another boasting classic literature, and the centre column of shelves dedicated to a crowd of trophies and plaques. It didn't surprise her to find everything sorted in detailed order; the books alphabetically, magazines in chronological order by issue date, and the trophies by sport or academic genre.

As she admired the overwhelming sight of the bookshelf, she nearly tripped over a modest step-ladder on the side. Curious, she hopped up onto the third step only to find that while she could reach the topmost row of shelves, she couldn't actually see it. Humiliation settled low in her gut, and the sound of a muffled yet clearly _amused_ cough from behind her brought heat into her cheeks.

_Stupid, so stupid! _she chided herself and didn't dare turn around.

"Do you need help getting down?" the bastard asked, his voice smooth.

She gripped the shelf harder. "I'm fine. Just admiring the books."

"You sure?"

She ignored him and tested the step-ladder before carefully stepping down. "Shouldn't you be using the bathroom or something?"

Jonathan was leaning against the door frame of his en-suite bathroom when she turned to face him. He held a neck tie in both hands. "I already finished. Which one looks better? The navy one, or the black and silver?"

"Black and silver," she heard herself advise even though she had no clue at all. Naturally, he whipped the navy one around his shoulders and lifted his collar. Her choice pick was discarded onto the colossal four-poster bed that she was determined to ignore. Feeling useless just standing there, she walked towards his long black dresser and inspected its contents.

There was a compact silver sound dock for his iPod, and a small stand for his Blackberry. Beside that was a small array of perfume, all of them half-empty. She didn't attempt to stop her fingers from tracing the bottles, or the tiny dirty-coloured bronze elephant figurine that looked out of place in comparison to all the shiny and modern knick-knacks on the God's dresser.

Jonathan and her were content to stay in silence as he tackled with his tie and rummaged through his walk-in-robe in an obsessive pattern that she was now used to, while she nosed through his stuff.

She picked up a folded piece of paper and opened it, forgetting that it was rude of her to snoop at his things without asking. She found a child's picture drawn in crayons, with "Jon & Daine" written at the top of a small stick figure of a girl with curly brown hair, holding onto the hand of a much taller boy that she recognised as Jon. Jon's large blue eyes and spiked black hair were unmistakeable, and the child even included Jon's dimple. There were humongous smiles on both faces, with a house drawn in the background and the word "ORFANIGSH" spelled out awkwardly on the roof.

A small flutter cramped her stomach in a foreign emotion that she bottled up to be properly examined later. Did Jonathan's _compassion _endear him to her? She looked at her reflection in the mirror and wondered about such a thing. Sure he was cooler than a cucumber in ice, but underneath that aristocratic haughtiness was a surprisingly good guy. He went to church, respected his parents, got along well with his friends, and wasn't rude or a jerk when it came down to it.

He embraced his position comfortably and made a conscious effort to win her friendship.

"You'll go cross-eyed if you stare any harder at yourself," Jonathan pointed out and she showed him her middle finger through the mirror.

He laughed and the hearty sound seemed to be drawn from his chest, up his throat and through his mouth until it shattered and floated like dust particles all around her. She would have squished her toe with her other foot in disgust had she not been so abruptly entranced by the strain of his neck muscles as he grinned.

"Are you ready?" he questioned.

"I guess. Are there going to be a lot of guests?"

His response eased her nervousness at the thought of lunch downstairs. "No. Only Gary and his parents. You already know Uncle Gareth, and I know Aunt Regina is looking forward to meeting you. We don't usually get together with our extended family unless there's a big celebration, or Easter and Christmas."

It made sense. "Same. But then again, the only other family I know is George and Aunt Eleni. Do you have a lot of cousins?"

"Just two actually. Gary from Ma's side, and Roger—who you haven't met yet—from Dad's."

Alanna curled her toes one last time into the soft fur of the bedroom carpet before slipping her shoes back on and checking to make sure that her phone was in her pocket.

"That's one cousin more than me," she explained to him lightly. "I've only got George from Ma's side… and that's only because his Mom and mine were stepsisters. So really, he's a step-cousin. You've seen him once before, I think." Well twice in truth, but he was drunk and unconscious the second time—and she hadn't stuck around then to see if her cousin and Tay had hung around the house until Jonathan woke up. _No need to bring that up, Al._ "He was the one who picked me up that day that you, erm, offered your umbrella."

"I know George."

"Oh!" She bit on her thumbnail as she registered this fact, but was so preoccupied that she missed the narrowing of his gaze onto her mouth. "I didn't think you would. I mean, he doesn't exactly run in the same circles as you or anything."

He cleared his throat and ushered her out of his room and into the long hallway. "He got me my car."

"What?" she demanded. The notion that _George _of all people had links with pricey dealings… "You mean the Porsche?"

He nodded, amused. "Why so surprised? I thought you knew. He knows a lot of people."

"But he's such a—a _dork_, isn't he?" she said uncertainly. George with his standard black jeans and checked flannel shirt and corny infatuation with Taylor Wilima.

Jonathan let out a bark of laughter. "He's a junior manager at Rogue, Al. That automatically makes him the college guy with the hottest connections."

"That stupid nightclub," she snorted, blasé. "What are you doing there, anyway? You're underage."

"As I said, I know George."

She could have been impressed that George was letting him—a minor—into the club, but her concern that Jon could get caught at such a place regardless of his social standing took over. "You shouldn't go there. I know you'd probably be able to persuade your way out of trouble, but—"

The warmth of his hands suddenly cupping her neck stopped her. His head was bent dangerously close to hers and unlike the last time they had been this close, his breath was hot and cold at the same time, and strongly minty. Like Listerine.

"Is that concern I hear, Alanna?" he murmured, his thumbs stroking the lines of her jaw. Her throat was suddenly dry, as if the heat of his hands had dehydrated it, and she felt awkward and pissed and nervous as hell. "It's sweet but I can take care of myself," he said and a thousand thoughts flew into her mind at once.

If there was one thing she was certain of, it was that friends _definitely _didn't do things like this! Friends didn't spread electric shocks into other friends' veins with just a single touch, whether they were in a crowded church singing one of the most sacred prayers there was in the history of mankind, or in a silenced hallway of a house that she now knew like the back of her hand.

What _was_ this strange alchemy?

And why she was letting it happen?

She placed her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but he had already moved away from her at a respective distance. "Jon, I—what are we—"

"Auntie," he spoke suddenly at someone over her shoulder.

Whipping around, Al's mouth dropped open in shock at the woman standing half way up the stairs. _Shit, _Al panicked, _she just saw _that! _She must think we're being all lovey and stuff._

"Er, sorry," Al blurted out, "we didn't know you were standing there."

"That's quite alright," the woman offered with a welcoming smile. "I hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

Al felt Jon move forward from behind her, and she automatically leaned away in case he brushed by her. There were only so much of those electric shocks that she could handle, and her heart was still racing as fast as it had ever run. "No interruption," he assured his aunt and kissed the older woman's dark caramel-coloured cheek fondly. His firm steely gaze settled on Al. "Al, I'd like you to meet my aunt, Regina Naxen. Auntie, this is Alanna."

Regina Naxen held out a manicured hand that Al didn't hesitate to accept. At least there wasn't any of that air-kissing on the cheeks business that she had seen society women do so often and sickeningly.

"So we meet at last," Mrs Naxen said. "If I didn't see all those pictures of you in the newspapers, then I was inclined to believe that everyone was just making you up."

Al grimaced. "Oh no, I'm real. Unfortunately." Mrs Naxen's eyebrow went up at the comment and she looked at her nephew. Jon just shook his head and gestured for both females to follow him down the stairs.

"How are you finding all the media attention, Alanna?"

Al focused her attention on Gary's mother and decided to be honest. "Not so good. I still hate it, but I think I've gotten used to it. It's not as hectic as it was at the beginning, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with reading fabricated rubbish about how Jon and I fought over which apartment we'll be buying once he starts college. I mean, that's so far from the truth that I don't understand where they _get _that material from."

Mrs Naxen was nodding. "It's all part of journalists doing their job, but it still remains a mystery even to me. We're very lucky that that is as far as it has gone. Let them make up ridiculous stories from speculation if it means that they won't slander the Conte name unjustly."

"You're right," Al surmised and relaxed at the woman's playful wink.

"Of course, darling. You should know that I always am."

Jon mock gasped. "Modesty, Aunty. If you can't do that, at least pretend."

"Oh hush, Jon. Alanna needs to know that although we're the very top echelon of the pyramid, we're actually just normal people inside playing house. _Rich _house."

"I like you," Al decided out loud and nearly stuffed her fist into her mouth at the sound of laughter from both her companions.

Mrs Naxen placed a comfortable arm around Al's shoulders. "And I like you. Such a refreshing change. No wonder Jon speaks so highly of you."

Al averted her eyes, abashed; but not before she caught the searing glance Jonathan Conte sent her way.

* * *

"I think Cythera's a lovely girl," both Mrs Conte and Mrs Naxen chorused at the same time.

Gary groaned in his seat across from Jon, and sent Al a miserable look. She kept her mouth closed and concentrated on the tasty salmon dish in front of her, just as Tay had told her to expect. It was really nice, though she elected not to touch a single piece of the artfully designed 'garden' salad that accompanied it.

She was content to sit and eat, while the adults circled Gary to pick apart his now infamous relationship with one Miss Cythera Elden. It was a huge relief to have all the attention on someone other than Jon and her and the unsuccessful attempts so far at finding a resolution to the engagement legalities.

"She comes from a respectful family, and is a strong student," Principal Conte added in. "Is she your first steady girlfriend, Gary?"

Al's fork accidentally skidded across the plate at the same time that Jon quietly choked on a cherry tomato. Gary glared at them savagely from across the table before answering his uncle. "I've had many girlfriends, Uncle."

Mrs Naxen set down her flute of champagne and sighed. "She's the first one that's lasted longer than two weeks, you mean. I think it's wonderful that you've finally found a girl with a substantial amount of brains, and can hold a conversation without giggling for over a minute."

"Mom!" Gary hissed and a tinge of pink slashed his cheekbones.

"I agree with your mother, Gary," Mrs Conte encouraged. "Cythera greeted all of us after mass and was dressed immaculately. If your relationship goes well, you two might be able to follow Jon and Alanna down the aisle—should we not find a solution regarding that—soon after."

"Enough!" Mr Naxen finally spoke, his cheeks as pink as his son's. "I think it's all very well that Gareth has found a _steady _girlfriend, but isn't marriage a little premature at this stage? He can't even put his own clothes in the laundry, let alone look after a girl with as high a breeding as Cythera."

Gary's chest puffed out in indignation at all the jabs to his person. While the table erupted into a debate about Gary's 'husbandibility', Gary finally hit his limit and shouted "For Gods' sake! I know what safe sex is!". Jon and his father both laughed out loud at the statement, and Al kicked Jon's foot under the table in a gesture for him to show some bloody manners.

Perhaps Sunday lunch with Jon's family wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Zach was complaining the next day to Doug as they walked out of their English class. "See? As soon as class finishes she's zooming out to meet Jon. Leaving us _again_ without even a crumb in courtesy. Since when did Jon and Al start having lunch together on their own, anyway?"

"Hello! I'm still here, y'know," Al told him testily. "Stop talking about me as if I'm not."

"Why should I? It isn't like you want to hang around us in the first place," he shot back.

Al immediately stopped in the hallway and looked to Doug. Her best friend's face was in its customary closed expression, but the hard line of his mouth betrayed his feelings.

"Don't tell me you feel the same way as him?" she questioned, her hands ready to form into fists.

Doug shrugged and gripped a hand onto Zach's shoulder. "You haven't really been hanging out with us all that much lately. We don't mind you hanging out with Jon, or with Alex and their gang. But if you're planning on ditching us for them, now that you and Jon are _engaged _and everything, at least tell us so we don't have to wait around all the time wondering if you're with us or not."

She sucked in a deep breath at the sting of his words. Sure she had been spending more time lately with Jon, but they knew why. It wasn't like she was 'ditching' them, as Doug had put it, but rather she was working on this new friendship of hers that was so different from all the others. So she hadn't been to any of their—Doug, Zach or Doug's—houses, or them to hers, in a couple weeks now. But she did share classes with them, and they all had lunch together last week.

That was enough, wasn't it?

_No, _her mind taunted cruelly. _What happened to spending every day with the guys, weekend sessions spent playing on the PlayStation at Geoffrey's, and the daily MSN chat conversations in the evenings after school? _

Traded in, Al acknowledged guiltily. Traded in for rides to school each morning in the Porsche with Jon, weekends now spent with Contes and Naxens, and spare moments talking with Jon about useless stuff or him teaching her to play ball.

"I can't believe you cut off your hair too," Zach was saying cruelly.

Offended, she bristled. He never spoke to her like that! Never. "What's wrong with it? Are you insinuating that I can't get my hair cut?"

"The real Al wouldn't have done it," he pouted, letting his emotions dictate his words unreasonably. "You're like turning into a girl and shit."

"No I'm not!" she just about shouted in denial, and let out a mocking laugh. She had no idea what was going on or what the heck she was saying, but his tone and his words had struck a chord inside her that she didn't know existed. "It's just a haircut, you tool. Do you honestly believe this is me turning into a girl?!"

She gestured down at her baggy knee-length khaki shorts, large green t-shirt and Vans, and smirked at the way her _friend_'s face went red. She wore this outfit numerous times last year, and he had never commented on it making her look like a girl before. In fact, Thom had jeered at her that morning that her shirt made her appear even more similar to a boy because it did nothing to even try and enhance her "iron-flat" chest.

"Whatever," Zach dismissed when he composed himself.

Doug only sighed in frustration at the scene before him, and Al felt so accountable at his discomfort. Doug was a straight-forward guy who disliked tense situations. She swallowed the lump in her throat before she tried to make amends. "Listen, Jon texted me this morning to spend lunch with him and its actually the _first _time he's done that without expecting me to or, or… yeah. I can always cancel, and the three of us can do something with Geoffrey—"

"We don't want your _pity _lunch invite, dude," Zach accused her at the same time that Doug stiffened at her implication.

"That's not how I meant it to come out, you dimwit," she said through clenched teeth. How the hell was she supposed to know what to say or do?

Zach gave her one narrow stare before spinning around and storming down the hall in the opposite direction. Doug seemed to hesitate between staying with her—his best friend—or going after Zach. In the end, his feet moved and he gave a sad, yet disappointed shake of his head. It cast a dark shadow in her chest. "Call us when you actually genuinely want to hang out. Tell Jon I said hi."

While she watched Doug walk away from her and follow Zach, she became aware of how very much alone she was. God, what the hell had just happened? And what had she just done?

"Al?"

She felt him before she even glanced at his face. "Have I been such a crap friend lately?"

"Hmm," he hummed. "I'd like to say no, but I've been pretty selfish… keeping you all for myself."

She tilted her baseball cap up and couldn't help the smile that graced her face. "Your mother knows no bounds," she voiced. Lianne Conte would probably force her to go shopping, or attend a charity gala with Jon if the two teenagers didn't follow her orders to spend more time together. They were going all out to convince the board of directors at Conte Corp that Jon and Al were 'authentic'—whatever that meant. "So I've been selfish, too."

"You can make it up to them," he suggested as they walked to her locker. "Who better than they to understand that you had to sacrifice a few weeks with them to escape a trip to the mall?"

"Ha! You make it sound so easy." Then she remembered the viciousness of Zach's words and the disappointment on Doug's face; two sentiments that she'd never seen directed towards her before. And by her best friends of all people. "But they should understand. It's not like I can't have other friends outside of them!"

"What's your locker combination?" Jon asked before he took her books from her as she continued to rant, unaware of the knowing faces that were turned to watch them in open interest.

"0501. Make sure to bang the locker before you pop it open," she warned him. "They're being totally unfair about this. They didn't even let me explain properly. They thought I was offering them a _pity invite._ Like, what the hell is that anyway? And we never needed invitations between each other to hang out." As she paced heatedly in front of her locker, Jon placed her books into her locker for her before closing it again, and discreetly repeated the process three times.

"Look at it from their perspective," he explained. "You only truly spend time with them during the classes you share together. I know they don't resent how I've been popping up all the time, but they probably see me as being an interloper—though a familiar friend—who is stealing all your time and attention."

She scowled. "That's unlikely. They worship you too like the rest of this blasted school."

"You jealous?" he asked cockily.

She was sickened at the sudden display of arrogance. "Why should I be? It's not like you're anyone special. My friend, alright, but what else?" She never would have dared say _that _to Jon Conte two months ago.

"Ouch," he winced, and Al bit her lip wondering if her words had been too out of line. It sounded like a lie… almost. He wasn't _not _special. He was… Jon.

"I smell KFC," she stated abruptly, her nose flaring. "Is that why you texted me this morning to not bring any lunch?"

She missed his strange look at how quick her attention got diverted, and looked at the large but plain brown paper bag in his hand. Funny, she hadn't noticed before. She was too busy fuming and distressing over her little blow out with Doug and Zach.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Two Zinger burger combos bought fifteen minutes ago… so it's still warm."

She stuck out her tongue and readjusted her cap as she trailed along behind him. "I hate you. You're such a spoilt bastard."

Jon rounded on her so fast that she gasped when she bumped into his chest and nearly crushed the food inside the paper bag between them.

"Spoilt? I'm not the one getting all the free meals lately," he said. "Besides, it isn't my fault that my free period happens to fall before lunch. I could be sitting at KFC right now with Alex and Raoul."

"It is your fault," she hissed. "I didn't ask you to buy me lunch like—like as if we were a couple!"

He took in her blazing face and sighed. "We are a couple, albeit a forced and quasi-fake one. And shout louder, why don't you? I don't think the kids in the library heard how much you weren't aware of the state of our relationship when you wear a promise ring the size of a golf ball around your neck."

She gritted her teeth and stalked past him and out of the doors leading to the grassed area. Most kids on this lunch slot chose to sit in the cafeteria, or like Jonathan's group, left school grounds to catch something to eat from a nearby diner or take-away joint. The grassed area had a few kids sitting around, maybe twenty if Al guessed correctly, and the bright sunshine and pristine green lawns astonished her for a few sound seconds.

"What are we doing here anyway?" she asked Jon and followed his actions uncertainly as he fell into a vacant picnic bench that a group of freshmen had fled from when they saw Jon's approach. He took out two cans of Pepsi, before pulling out the familiar white and red plastic bag that contained their non-cafeteria provided meal.

Unable to get the thanks out verbally, she grabbed the burgers and fries from the bag and delegated them accordingly. With her back to the sun, she became aware of his squint as the sun glared down at them—especially painfully on Jon's face opposite her. She didn't even think of what she was doing, but the next thing she knew she was offering him her baseball cap.

He looked at it for a minute before eyeing her striking titian red locks and then altering the size of the cap to make it larger. "Thanks. You didn't have to do that," he said with a small grin hovering on the corners of his lips as he put her beloved hat on. It looked sort of silly on him.

"You're my boyfriend, it's the least I could do," she shrugged casually before biting a fry and then freezing immediately. _Shit. Did I just say--?_

"Boyfriend, huh?" he said softly, but she caught the nervous bobbing of his Adam's apple. "I guess it makes sense." It was impossible to read his expression; it always was.

"Um, yeah," she replied awkwardly and a peculiar silence settled between them. Al was pretty certain that Jon could hear her thoughts. _For shame, Al Trebond. Discipline that foolish mouth!_

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter remains unbeta-ed. Many thanks to everyone for your patience and encouraging reviews!


	13. Not A Normal Girl

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Thirteen: Not A Normal Girl**

* * *

"I was sitting in this very spot the first time I saw you."

Al stopped mid-chew and allowed the oily fry in her hand to stand suspended between them. She suspected there was more to Jon's casual delivery of the statement than it being wholly random. Perhaps the only way to reply to a bombshell like the one she dropped a few minutes ago was to add in his own. The only difference was his maddening ability to remain cool and composed, as if he said things like that every day. He watched her pensively, his blue eyes electrifyingly bright.

"I didn't know that," she managed woodenly, unsure with how to proceed. She had no idea that he noticed her back then—whenever it was—and that he remembered such a moment in the first place. The Jon Conte she knew hadn't even spared her a glance in the two years she'd been at Corus High, at least not until they landed in the same gym period last year and she'd beat him at some of those exercises out of pure stamina.

He took a swig of his Pepsi before speaking again. "Hmmm. It was the first day of sophomore year and Alex wanted to tag along with Gary and I during our plans to skip math. While I thought it was awesome that he wanted in, I got distracted by the tiny red-head who was shouting at Ralon Malven. And who wasn't when she was declaring that she'd rather kiss pigs than listen to him?"

The name caused Al to stiffen, yet redden at the same time. That first day of high school, she had thought that the blonde junior was handsome and quite elusive, until he'd opened his pretty mouth and ordered her to fetch him a soda from the vending machines. Al took it as a joke at first, but then he sneered and loudly explained that a freshman like her was supposed to obey someone like him—who was an upperclassman and came from one of the wealthier families in Corus.

She had taken offense at that immediately, and like Jon said, blankly told him that she'd rather kiss pigs than do something like that. She hadn't counted on the attention she'd garnered, but it added up later, after she discovered that she hadn't been the only victim covertly bullied by Ralon Malven.

"He apologized right after," she murmured reflectively. "But I should have known better. He waited for a few days before he got back at me for going against him and humiliating him in front of everyone. What a creep."

"I think _creep_ is a bit of an understatement."

"I'm trying to be the better person here," she said tartly and waved her abandoned fry in mock reproach. "Even after all this time."

Jon gave her a humoured look before scrunching up his burger wrapper into a perfectly shaped ball. "He was a complete asswipe and more. Everyone knew there was bad blood between you, but we didn't know how bad until he vandalized your locker and destroyed your things."

"I handled it."

"Spraying the word 'cunt' on a freshman _girl's_ locker alone should have had him expelled." There was a frustration that leaked uncontrolled from his tone. Al tried not to think about how passive Principal Conte had been at the time. She wondered if the complicated yet affectionate relationship she now shared with Jon's father had been the older man's way of making up for the fact that he had turned a blind eye to Ralon's conflicts with her in the beginning.

On the other hand, it warmed her to discover that Jon had cared. Had he always done so, or was it just because of their recent closeness?

"I guess so. But it was a long time ago—and I'd like to forget it, if you don't mind."

"Gary was supposed to be your buddy when you started."

Al's stomach fell into her Chuck Taylors. "What? Then why was—"

"Delia your buddy instead?" he continued for her. "It was all to do with Malven. You see, Gary had been assigned to you originally through the buddy system and I to Zach. But when I noticed that Malven was bullying you—I told Gary that I wanted to swap with him. It worked out alright since Zach was a family friend of his anyway."

"You wanted to be _my _buddy? Wow, I never thought…"

"I told Delia my plan before I could ask Uncle about it. But she surprised me and said that she'd do it instead." He stretched his legs out and gave her a shrug. "She said that it would avoid Ralon hating you even more because I took your side—especially since I didn't even know you."

Al silently digested all the information she had just been given. "But why would she do that? She and I never got along from the start."

"She was being a good friend," he said firmly. "To me, anyway."

Al shook her head. "That doesn't make sense. She has to have a motivation behind it. Delia's just like that."

His face was set in a frown. "I know she's not the nicest girl out there, but I can't agree to that. She didn't even _know _you."

And that there was exactly it, Al thought. Perhaps Delia Eldorne _did_ know something about her before Al even started at Corus High. For why else would she treat Al differently than any other person... unless she had something against her from the very beginning. Why would she warn Al away from Jon Conte?

She needed to discuss this new development—and judging from the look on Jon's face—with someone who was definitely not him.

Suddenly ravenous, Al dug into her burger and tucked her thoughts away for the meantime. Glancing around, her attention fell on a couple not too far away doing homework. The guy was stretched out on his stomach as the girl sat cross-legged in front of her boyfriend while she tapped her pen against her mouth. They looked so at ease with one another that Al squirmed in her seat.

"Uh, hey, about what I said earlier… I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I don't see you as a boyfriend."

"I know."

"You do?" she echoed, half-relieved and half-dubious. "What's that suppose to mean?"

A mask slid onto his face that she hadn't seen since that first dinner at his house. "We're friends, aren't we?"

She nodded. It was the truth, even if she had been having strange dreams lately that brought back her memories of the time that Jon had kissed her in the closet. She attributed that to her 'female hormones'—after all, she had been surrounded by boys for most of her life and she did have the occasional dream (nightmare was more like it) about her friends being more than just that. When she had told Tay about this recently, the other girl had suggested that it was Al's conscience trying to remind her about the part of herself that Al liked to ignore.

"Sure, Jon. Who else would give me free meals?"

His answer was not the one she was expecting. "You called me 'Jon'."

"You gave me free food," she quipped, nervous all of a sudden. "Think of it as gratitude."

"It's a lot better than the stiff 'Jon Conte' you've been using."

She went red. "You heard that?"

"It's a bit hard to miss considering how loud you can get." He paused at his words. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," she agreed and eyed the cap on his head. "That's just who you were back then. Jon Conte."

"A stranger, hm?"

She sat still as he removed the cap from his head and ran a hand through his short hair. He fiddled with the adjustment belt at the back and grinned at a trio of blushing girls that walked past their table. When they sat at the vacant bench a few feet away, Jonathan flipped the hat backwards and returned it to Al's head. She didn't miss the sudden drop in their conversation.

She tugged her hat off and laid it on the table between them. "George is going with Thom and my father for the chess semis. I need a ride after swimming tonight. I finish at six."

A smile hovered on his lips. "Good thing my therapy session finishes at five-thirty then."

Al grinned and stuck out her tongue childishly. She was glad he was finally comfortable enough with her to open up about his OCD. Then again, what were good friends for?

* * *

The ride home after school was scorching. Sweat beaded at the tips of Thom's hair and dropped into his eyes each time his head moved. "This is ridiculous," he protested and took a hand off the steering wheel to wipe at his forehead. "It was perfectly fine this morning, and now BAM! You'd think it was still July, or August."

"It's your fault for wanting to keep this stupid car," Al informed her twin and folded her arms. "Why didn't you trade it in when Dad asked if you wanted a new one?"

"It was winter at the time. I wasn't thinking about the air conditioner. Plus there's nothing wrong with this car besides the air con problem."

Al rolled her eyes. "Can't you ask George to take a look at it, or something? He wouldn't charge you anything, to boot. Seriously Thom, use your head."

"Hey!" he said before joining the traffic on Market Bridge. "You're lucky I'm even giving you free rides."

"We're family, remember?" She felt a small spark of satisfaction at his wince. It was good that he recognised the words he had used at the beginning of term. It felt really good to recycle them.

"George won't go anywhere near my car," Thom half-grumbled, half-sulked. "He only looks at cars that have a price tag with more numbers than actual potential customers. And FYI, he never actually fixed cars. He was a sales person. And yep—there's a difference, dumbass."

"What! I'm the dumbass now?"

"Don't start. Stop whining, Al. You're making it even more unbearable in here."

She gave her twin the finger. "If you don't kill us by wrapping the car around a tree, then the lack of a _working _air conditioner will!"

He looked at her in annoyance. "And you have money to pay for that, do you? It's not that simple."

"Yeah, well—" _Well what?_ He had a point there. One she had conveniently forgotten after accustoming herself to the luxury of Jon's Boxster, and the limo. This wasn't good. She was turning into one of those spoilt rich kids, minus the actually being rich part. The entire situation she was in was twisted, and she couldn't blame Thom for unintentionally pointing it out to her.

And speaking of Thom, she felt his nervousness before he casually spoke. "Is Jon picking you up after squad?"

She made an 'hmm'-ing noise and wondered where he was going with this. Thom hardly ever talked to her about Jon, or anything related to the engagement at all, now that she thought about it. She had put it to some weird awkwardness at the beginning, and then figured later that it must be because of that understanding vibe between twins. Did Thom speak to Jon about her? Or was he secretly disapproving of his friend and sister spending time together?

Closing her eyes, she barely stopped herself from banging her head against the window. This was getting too complicated for her! She never had to think about so many people and their opinions before.

"That's good," Thom said, and cleared his throat before stepping on the accelerator and moving with traffic. "Do you think you like him, or something?"

She whipped her head to look at her brother in shock. "Are you joking? Coz I swear I just heard my dear brother ask if I… had _feelings_… for Jon Conte."

Thom shifted in his seat uncomfortably and gave her a brief pointed look. "If you do… it's okay. As your brother, I'm supposed to look out for you. Jon's alright—you could do a lot worse than him, you know."

"God, Thom," she moaned, slightly embarrassed. "Why are you doing this? And I don't like _like_ him—like that." _Not yet anyway, _that damned voiced whispered. _But you're getting there._

"I'm thinking about two years from now. I'll probably get a full scholarship to uni. But what about you, Al? How will you pay for college? What will you do once Dad's job pulls him back overseas? I'm just saying that having connections with the Contes may be a good thing."

* * *

Party at Jon's. Saturday night. Aunt & Uncle out for w/e. Spread word to ur friends. Thnx!

_5 Nov. 2008 04:45PM  
TXT from: Gary_

* * *

The Caynn Aquatic Centre was surprisingly full when Al lifted her head up from the water at six o'clock. Breathing in air, she lifted her goggles onto her cap and resisted the urge to spit. Some of the chlorine had made its way into her mouth as she completed her final lap for the afternoon. Routinely, she bobbed her lips back under the water, opened her mouth and let her spit mix with the water. Before more could sneak back in, she stood and rubbed her face.

One of her peers reached the wall a second later, and they shared a grin at the prospect of home time. They'd been swimming for two hours, with very little breaks in between. Their coach blew the whistle and went into a short pep speech about how well the squad had worked the routine this session.

As Al lifted herself out of the pool, she ignored the way that some of the girls from the team started elbowing each other with giggles. Repelled at such behaviour, Al picked up her towel and bag, and made her way to the change rooms. For some reason, a lot of girls in bikinis seemed to parade themselves in the free lanes, and Al pitied the poor kids who were having their swimming lessons in the reserved lanes beside them.

Reaching up to remove her goggles and cap, she stopped mid-step before the entrance to the bathrooms and figured out why all the girls were preening. Jon reclined on a chair, his Lacoste black shirt stretching taut across his chest. Teamed with checked green cargo shorts, he looked like a normal teenager. One who was lazily perusing the length of her exposed legs.

Gasping, she struggled clumsily to wrap the towel around her body and cover as much as she could. "What are you doing here!?" she spluttered.

"Well, looky here. So you _are_ a girl."

His eyes zoomed back up to her face and he gave her _that_ smirk. The overconfident one that suited his face and made her blood boil. The poser then proceeded to laugh at the way she puffed up her cheeks to stop the rude reply from escaping her mouth in public. "And to answer your question; I'm here to take you home… as you so enticingly invited."

She hefted her bag and tried not to drip more water. _The fool was flirting with her!_ "I didn't _invite_ you, you asswipe."

He had the gall to look unfazed by her barbs. "Oh? Is that right? Then why did you tell me that you finished at six and needed a ride?"

Lifting her chin, she ignored his comment and strode into the change rooms, trying to block out the echoes of his chuckles. Heading for her locker, she stuffed her bag inside and grabbed a change of clothes, shampoo and soap. She made faces in the air the entire time, and mumbled crap about the boy sitting outside. Once inside a shower stall, she deliberately milked her dollar's worth of hot water. It would do Jon good to learn some patience.

When the hot water ran out and voices filled the previously empty change rooms, she turned off the taps and finished up. There was a few seconds of awkwardness when she emerged from the stall and the others realised that Al Trebond had been in their midst the whole time. Consequently, the chatter about Jon Conte died in an instant. One of the mothers drying her daughter's hair under the hand dryer just about smacked her face into the machine in her haste to look away.

Al gave them all a raised eyebrow and strolled to her locker. After combing her hair—which was a lot easier now that is wasn't so dratted long—and exchanging the stuff she needed with her shampoo, she pasted a smug expression on her face. It died the instant she spied Jon within a semi-circle of chattering girls. The leader of the pack was exchanging numbers with the bastard, and at closer inspection, happened to be Vivienne, one of her squad mates.

Gritting her teeth, she dusted off the imaginary dirt on her oversized grey t-shirt and approached the merry band of peacocks.

"What ring tone do you want to be?" Vivienne teased Jon, an enormous blinding grin on her face. Al wondered what that grin would look like if she pushed the other girl in front of a taxi. "There's _Sexy Back _by JT, or maybe—"

"I'm ready to go," Al rudely butted in. "Today would be good."

Jon looked up and scratched the back of his head as he inspected her covered form. Vivienne looked between them nervously, before throwing Al a friendly grin. "Hey, Al. We were just exchanging numbers because it turns out that he an—"

"Shouldn't you girls be changing right around now instead of loitering the walkways?" She quirked her lips in fake concern. God, she was being such a bitch—_her, _Al Trebond_._ "What if someone slipped and broke their skull trying to get around yous?"

The girls all gave each other looks. Jonathan—smart boy that he apparently was—sensed the ensuing conflict and grabbed Al's forearm. "Thanks for that, Vivienne. Ladies. We better get going. I've a family dinner, and my mother doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Vivienne gave a little laugh and reassured Corus High's prized golden boy that he had nothing to worry about. "And it's 'Viv', Jon. Hope you don't get into trouble! Err, see you, Al."

As they all chorused goodbye, Al shook off Jon's hand. "Do you always tell that to every girl you meet? _I've got family dinner, and my mother doesn't like to be kept waiting,_" she mimicked sarcastically.

He snaked an arm around her waist and transformed them into a sparkly engaged couple for all the onlookers watching them exit. "You're catty, aren't you? You're full of surprises today, Al. I was worried for a second that you might push all of those girls into the pool. I didn't want my flip-flops to get wet."

Funnily enough, he WAS wearing flip-flops. "I've never seen your toes before," she admitted, losing her train of thought at the sight of his feet. "Do you get a manicure thingy-mabob on them?"

Jon laughed. "No. I just take a shower daily and cut my toenails regularly. And it's a _pedicure_ when it's on the feet."

"Should I be scared that you know that?"

"Ha, ha. Ma made sure I knew the difference when she asked me to book her an appointment. Apparently, pedicures cost more."

Al shrugged and got into the Porsche. "I think it's stupid. Why blow out two hundred dollars or shit on a pedicure when you wear shoes half the time?"

"I thank God every night that you are not a normal girl. I'll be saving a lot of money."

She snorted and turned the volume up on his iPod. "I'll have you know that if it weren't for my great-grandfather, I'd be more loaded than you right now."

"Ah, yes. Trebonds come from old money."

"Mmmm. According to Dad, they sailed on The Waterlily, etcetera. But then Brecken's old man gambled it all, went broke, and then the rest of us just didn't recover after that with the wars and everything."

Jon looked inquisitive as he scrolled through his iPod and found a song as they waited at the traffic lights. "Brecken's your grandfather?"

"Yeah. What's with the frown?"

She could literally see his knuckles whitening. "Do you think there was more to _you_ being chosen for the engagement than just Pop's debt and promise to your grandfather?"

"You mean the fact that we have even bluer-blood than you?" Her question was delivered with more emotion than she intended. Jasson Conte really was a lot more ruthless than she imagined. Was he not content with how much power the Conte name already possessed? "He's a master puppeteer, isn't he?"

Jon didn't reply. He just glanced at her for a long moment before he left the silence to hang between them. She was even more determined to speak to Doug now. Not only did she want to spill her suspicions about Delia, she also needed his advice on the new Trebond-Conte developments. The only thing that stopped her was the tiny matter of him being cross and disappointed with her.

"Hey, do you think we could make a pit-stop by Jo's Diner?" she asked. She had every intention of ordering something random, and then going to the bathroom to call Doug before she lost her nerve. Why she felt the need to hide in the toilet to do such a thing escaped her. It wouldn't do well if Jon were around when she threw Delia's name into the conversation.

As soon as she reached home, she knew she'd chicken out. Doug was her first and only true, dependable friend. Even her 'iron shell of no emotion'—as Zach liked to dramatically put it—didn't stand a chance when it came to Doug.

"Too late. We're just about to turn into your street."

Drumming her fingers on her thigh, she let her head fall back onto the seat. Once Jon parked, he reached over her lap and pulled open the glove compartment. Taking out a pink CD case, he handed it to her.

"What is this?" she speculated, a little put off by the colour.

"It's an advanced two month anniversary present from Alex and Raoul." She couldn't tell if he was amused or not. Had it really been two months since The Occurrence? The question probably showed on her face, for he answered her. "It'll be two months exactly on Saturday."

"Oh."

She was suddenly aware that the car was bathed in the darkness, and for the first time, Al didn't mind. There was something comforting and thrilling and dangerous about the way they were parked in her driveway… and only a few inches apart. "I think I like you," he suddenly whispered.

The scent of Fructis Sleek & Shine shampoo definitely beat the rancid stench of alcohol.

She didn't know where her ensuing confidence came from. "Because I've put up with you for two months?"

"Maybe," Jon smiled, and closed that last inch between them to give Al their first proper kiss. His lips were a firm pressure against hers, sliding them together in a gentle collision that soon turned a little more fierce.

When it was over a few seconds later, Al's eyes felt heavy. Jon was staring at her determinedly, and he tapped her chin to break her out of her daze.

"Time for you to go inside, pookie. As much as I want to stick around, I'll be late for dinner. Unfortunately, this is one I can't miss. Family matters, you see."

"'Pookie'?" she inquired, half-stunned and a little disgruntled. How could he act so normal after planting a big one on her? "I don't think so, asswipe. Just because I let you maul my, my—mouth—doesn't mean you—URGH! I'm going. Goodnight!"

Grabbing her stuff, and her new CD, she forced the door open and just about ran up to the front door. Jon honked before turning on the engine and reversing. "Don't you dare ignore me tomorrow!" he yelled.

Praying that none of her neighbours were around, she flipped him the bird like she had to her twin earlier, and declared that "_Unlike you, I am not a chicken!_ Asswipe."

Aware that she was making no logical sense whatsoever, she collapsed into the front hall and dashed through the dark. She had no clue what possessed her, but in the next few minutes, the telephone was attached to her ear. "Taaaay!" she groaned. "You'll never guess what the bastard did now!"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Um, surprise? *ducks* Massive thanks to all of you who reviewed Ch 12 and waited patiently. I promise to start replying to all your reviews again this chapter :) Also, I encourage you to check out The King's Own, a new Tamora Pierce fanfic archive online. Lots of goodies there!

Next Chapter: _The diamond dogs are Poachers, and they Hide Behind Trees_


	14. The diamond dogs are Poachers

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Fourteen: The diamond dogs are Poachers, and they Hide Behind Trees**

* * *

The Contes' enormous and immaculately kept swimming pool was always unoccupied. Al, escaping for a bit from the chaos inside the manor, hadn't expected to see the pool in question filled with bikini clad girls and shirtless boys—most of whom she recognized as students from the senior class.

There were crates of waiting beer cans spread about on the grass and the pool's patio. Al kept her mouth shut in surprise at the number of teenagers packed in the place. A few of them waved at her, but Al suspected it had a lot to do with the alcohol they had probably been consuming for the last two and a half hours. The others didn't even see—they were too busy cavorting around to the blaring music while miraculously standing up straight.

Looking down at the can of Coke in her hands, Al felt slightly childish. "Why is this not alcohol of some sort?" she asked herself.

"I was wondering the same thing, Trebond," Raoul said, coming up from behind. Craning her neck up, she accepted the bottle of Midori he handed her. "Start with this, short stuff. It's a lady's drink—but you can hit the beer later if you're up to it."

Giving him an evil eye, she abandoned her Coke and unscrewed the cap off the green drink before tipping it back and taking a good long swig.

The giant beside her whistled low. "Well then. I take it you're no stranger to our wonderful friends there."

"What else do you think we do over at Doug's? Play _Monopoly_?"

He wiggled his eyebrows and dusted off some imaginary crumbs on his green shirt. "Now that I think about it…"

"Stop right there," she demanded, not liking the implications. He just laughed. "Are there always this many people?"

"Yeah. You should really come along more often. Lots of drama and shit go down at gigs like this. And when it's Gary who sends out the message—you know the whole town will show u—_woah_."

Turning to see the object of her companion's wide eyes, she looked away just in time to see a half-naked Josiane Isles step out. The blonde junior was wearing the shortest pair of shorts Al had ever seen, and a plunging light blue singlet with sparkly sequins that moved with her. But that was not what made half the male population sit up and take notice. It was the absence of a back on the top that drew the eye—and in Al's case—nearly made her choke.

"Easy there, Trebond," Raoul murmured, but he was already moving off towards the pool and the newly arrived group of juniors that clustered around their head honcho. Not wanting to be anywhere near Josiane, Al spun around and headed back inside the house.

There was a different music system set up just inside the living room, complete with two DJs that were tempting the glass wares in Lianne Conte's display cabinets to rattle and shake. Dodging around moving bodies and dangerous arms bopping to the music, the redhead grabbed a can of beer from a nearby cooler and found the door that led to the Contes' entertainment room.

Hoping that nobody was inside, she wretched it open and just about collided with a hard-muscled chest covered in a very familiar checked flannel shirt.

"Where's the fire, 'Lanna?"

"What are _you_ doing here, Cooper?"

George feigned a hurt expression. "Is that the way to speak to you dear, older cousin? The one who's here to look out for you and hope that you don't get smashed off your face and end up in a certain rich boy's bed?"

Al scoffed and stomped on his foot. "As if I'd _ever_."

"Oh, don't speak too soon," Tay piped up, a blinding grin on her face. "The last I saw Jon, he looked _really_ frustrated." Al bit her lower lip in consternation. Her friend was sprawled all over one side of the couch, with a bright coloured drink and flushed cheeks. Tay's hair had been let down that night, all straight and shiny, and she looked deliriously happy. Now that was something Al found herself smiling at.

"Would you look at that smile, baby!" Tay cheered, looking at George. "I think Al is falling for Mr Conte."

"I am not!" Al denied vehemently. Tay, shy sweet Tay, was most definitely tipsy.

George crossed his arms over his chest and gave Al an undecipherable look. "I haven't been around lately, but I feel that I should remind you that you are only sixteen. You shouldn't even be drinking. No one in this house except for a very few of us are actually of age."

Tay stuck out her tongue at this, and got up to sling an arm around Al's shoulders in a show of underage female power. George didn't budge, and continued to grill Al like a foreign father. "Uh, I never thought I'd ever say this, but since this is your first relationship—be careful, alright? If he pressures you into anything you don't want to do; say no. Try not to get too involved in the, uh, feelings and stuff."

Al's cheeks flared in embarrassment. "Is there something you and Thom have planned behind my back about me and Jon? Seriously, cuz. No more, please!" George knew Al wasn't the kind of person to just fall into bed with Jon Conte because he gave nice kisses. Al Trebond kept her head screwed on tight.

Even if she didn't mind her boyfriend's attention. Lately it was easy to forget that they were forced into a marriage arrangement. Since that kiss in the car a few days back, it felt like she was just Al, and Jon was just Jon, and they were something a little more than friends, but a lot less than an engaged couple.

"You're sweet, but I think Al knows what she's doing," Al heard Tay whisper, and looked away when her friend reached up and kissed her cousin passionately. George's words were muffled between the two, and Al resigned herself to sitting on one of the free armchair recliners while she waited for anyone else she knew to show up.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Tay was squished up on Al's left, while Nate sat on her other side. The once mostly empty room was swarming with people—half of whom Al had never talked to before, and a few others that looked much older than a bunch of high school kids. A particularly boisterous trio of girls to the side suddenly threw their heads back to cackle like hyenas.

Swearing under her breath, Al struggled to keep the sneer off her face. Nate, having toddled his way into the room a few minutes before, ruffled her hair annoyingly. "Glare any harder, and your face will get stuck like that. You'll be the prettiest looking donkey in existence."

"Zip it, Salmalin," Al threatened, and snuck her hand up his arm to give him a firm pinch. "Just because you're Tay's cousin doesn't mean you won't get thrown out of here."

His mouth dropped open. "You did not just use the 'I'm Jon Conte's fiancé and this is his house' card on me. Comon! This is like my first party here in Corus."

"You are also not a junior _or_ a senior, so I have no idea why Gary even invited you—"

"The invitation should have come from you," he accused. "Did the text he send out not say 'spread the word to your _friends_'? The last time I checked, you were the one who borrowed my Wii games before I even had a chance to play it."

"I returned it," Al defended hotly, her back straightening as soon as she saw Alex enter the room. On cue, Jon followed from behind carrying an unidentified plastic grocery bag. As if watching a bizarre mystery, Al felt a warm sensation tickle in her gut as everyone stopped what they were doing to greet the two boys enthusiastically. Soon after a beer bottle was placed in his hand, Alex disappeared into a circle of bodies crowded near the ice hockey table. A few girls from the cheerleading team automatically flocked his flanks, and Al rolled her eyes.

The whole tall, dark and brooding thing must be a new trend. Alex was just as much a social butterfly as his best friend.

His best friend that was now squeezing himself into the spot that Nate had just vacated. "Thanks man," Jon said, clapping Nate on the shoulder. "Sure you don't want to stay? Plenty of seats around here."

The tall sophomore just shook his head cheerfully. "Nah, it's all good. I just saw Delia Eldorne walk into the kitchen when you guys came in."

Jon smirked. "Yeah, she was with us when we dropped by the town centre to buy a few things." As physical proof, he just about threw the plastic bag in his hands on Al's lap. The contents were warm. Snooping inside, Al found four large spring rolls and a box of fried rice from Jo's Diner. "Chinese night at Jo's. Our dinner," Jon whispered in her ear, and then whistled loudly. Short moments later, Al heard a few girls coo and squee before her cat jumped up onto Jon's lap.

"How—"

"I found him hanging around that lady's place again."

"Again?" Tay echoed, leaning in to join in their conversation. Al snorted, feeling half-claustrophobic, yet half-pleased that two beautiful people were crowding her personal space. "She must be feeding Bug _really_ nice treats for him to spend all his time there."

The unknown woman's inhumanely perfect face flashed in Al's memory. "She's just freaky."

"I haven't seen her yet either," Tay added, a frown marring her face. "You two—and Bug—are the only ones who've actually seen her. Every time George drive's past there, there's never anyone in the house."

"Hm, that is odd," Jon replied thoughtfully. "She's pretty hot."

Al elbowed him in the ribs until he coughed and jostled a perching Bug. The feline bristled slightly and glared at them, before he stuffed his butt and tail into Jon's belly and resumed observing the rest of the party. Apparently, Tay found the action "so cute" that she plucked Al's pet from Jon's lap and cuddled him like a baby between George and her.

Jon laughed from beside her at the look on George's face. "Welcome to the party, George."

"Only you, Conte. Only you."

Al swung her face around to meet Jon's cool eyes. She subconsciously leaned against him and manoeuvred her body so that he could easily snake a friendly arm on top of the couch and around her shoulders. "Thanks for the food. Did Alex get some too?"

"Yeah, he ate some noodles on the way here. He was eager to hit the beer. His soccer game tired him out. You know how he is."

"Sure do! And how come you never thought to warn me about how many people there wo—oh no."

"_Crawling down the alley on your hands and knee. I'm sure you're not protected, for it's plain to see."_

Jon scratched the back of his head as David Bowie's voice blasted over the indoor music system. Alex hooted from across the room, raising his bottle in toast towards them. He opened his mouth and with a now grinning Raoul—who had, not shockingly, appeared out of nowhere—belted out the lyrics to the song they had dubbed as 'Jon & Al's Theme'.

"_The diamond dogs are poachers and they hide behind trees. Hunt you to the ground they will. _Woo! Yea—_mannequins with kill appeal._"

"It's not very romantic," Tay said crossly, referring to the song now that she'd heard it. Al had called her the other night and relayed to her the contents of Raoul and Alex's anniversary present. "And it has a horrible melody!"

"I wouldn't call it melodic, exactly," Jon supplied.

Al stayed silent, half-agreeing. While she didn't particularly care that the song was unromantic, she did find it clever in a disturbing sense. The first thing she'd done was to Google up the lyrics, and after spending an embarrassing hour figuring out what the hell it all meant, she had finally called Alex (and then Raoul) and demanded where they had found such an awful, old song.

The only reply she got from both guys was: "Admit it. It's the perfect theme song! And David Bowie is not _awful_."

He might not be, but diamond dogs definitely were. Al took a small savage satisfaction from being able to label all the paparazzi, and media freaks, and stupid brown-nosers, and the board of directors at Conte Corp, and even her school peers crudely. While she wasn't exactly _crawling _in an alley, all the attention they'd received about the engagement, and still continued to do so, were rather unwelcome. Even after all this time.

Al didn't like feeling trapped, and observed, and controlled. But that was half of the reality of her situation. It wouldn't do any good to hash over it and waste her energy fuming and hating.

As Mr Olau had told her, she was better than that.

* * *

There must have been a set of rules that everyone knew off by heart when partying at the Contes'. Al was expecting to see the biggest upstairs' bathroom trashed, but surprisingly the place was clean and void of any unattractive substances and liquids that could possibly be secreted by her peers. Even superior was the discovery that the shower remained empty of any frisky couples doing the nasty.

She'd never quite forgotten Thom's tale about accidentally and frighteningly catching Cythera 'praying' in front of Gary weeks before at Francis' birthday bash. Al was naturally grateful that her swimming regional's fell on the same evening. She was certain she'd never be able to look Cythera in the eye again if she had been in Thom's place.

And speaking of Thom, it only registered in Al's head that she'd not seen her brother during the whole evening. According to her plain black watch, it was four minutes shy of 11PM, and hence, nearly three hours since she'd last spoken to him in the car ride over.

Taking out her cell, she dialled and met his voicemail. "Hi, this isn't Thom's mobile. You've got the wrong number. Leave a name and message if you dare. Beeeeep." Chewing on one of her knuckles, she tried again. Nothing.

Stupid, good for nothing cell. She had a feeling that her disorganised twin had probably left his at home.

Leaning on the vanity sink, she patted her cheeks lightly and pondered on Jon's earlier invitation. Could she really stay the night—in one of the guest rooms, of course?

And most importantly… did she want to?

Her thoughts were cut short when she heard someone coughing outside of the door. It was a familiar cough, coming from a baritone voice that had her panicking. What would she say to him when he asked her for her answer? That sleeping over your boyfriend's house was a really giant step, even though it was entirely innocent? She had no clue what she was _supposed_ to say.

Maybe she would just ignore Jon when he knocked, and he'd assume it was someone else in the bathroom.

She regretted informing Alex that she'd just be making a quick trip to the toilet before meeting them out front. Surely they didn't need her with them to buy more chips for the game of pool they had planned? "But we need you to drive, dimwit," Alex had pointed out. "You're the only one out of all of us who hasn't had too much to drink."

"I had two _bottles_ of alcohol, Alex," she'd replied.

"And that's more than the four me and Jon have each had?"

Needless to say, Al had grumbled in concession. And now here she was, pissing about some insignificant relationship issues like a lame ass prima donna and—wait, was that a knock?

The door knob was twisting!

Oh god, she'd left the door unlocked. Scrambling, she grabbed her cell off the vanity, and like the daft idiot she was, hopped into the bathtub and pulled the shower curtain closed all the way.

All because she wanted to avoid Jon and his bloody question.

The door swung upon and Al heard Jon enter the bathroom, pause to look around, and shut it again after realising that she wasn't inside. Well gee, that was it? Sighing, she went to open the curtain again when the bang of the toilet seat being flipped up made her freeze. Blood rushed to her cheeks furiously as the distinct sound of a zipper opening burned her ears.

_Jon was peeing a mere metre away from her!_

Yep. It was confirmed now. Al Trebond was officially a moron.

Why couldn't she have just been a normal person and shouted out that she was in there still? Biting on her lower lip, she adjusted her limbs carefully, uncomfortable with her hunched over position. Not seeing the small bar of soap that had made its way near her foot, Al expertly stepped on it and in one graceful arc, slipped and fell forward straight into the rainforest-patterned plastic shower curtain. Unprepared for her weight, the rod keeping the curtains in place teetered precariously before deciding that it would rather take away Al's pride.

Unable to grasp onto anything but air, Al shouted and proceeded to fall face first into Jon's spine from behind. The impact forced him to slam forward and down, straddling the toilet seat, while the shower curtain rod—attached to its plastic curtain—followed for the adventure and conked Jon directly on the head.

His resounding roar of shock, and quite possibly pain and terror, was as loud as the commotion. Sadly, Al had no time to piece her dignity back together before the footsteps stampeded up the staircase and the door was flung open.

Al used the split second to whack Jon on his shoulder blade and hiss hypocritically, "Why didn't you lock the damn door!?"

Despite the mighty confusion and pain he must have been in, Jon had managed to grab a nearby hand towel and cover his lap up. Al puzzled why he had changed from his shirt and jeans into a dark purple business shirt and black slacks, but the stunned silence overrode her attention.

"What's—Al? What are you _doing_?" Jon asked, perplexed from the doorway. A stunned Delia hovered at his elbow, her brows perfectly arched—and suspicious. Al thought she'd seen Francis, Gary and her brother behind them, but she was too busy gaping like a fish at the fact that Jon was at the door and very much _not_ underneath her.

If this guy wasn't Jon, then he must be…

"Uncle never said she was _this_ troublesome," the guy murmured, before he turned his head around a fraction to look at Al. "Could you get off me, now?"

Al flushed, but squared her shoulders and purposely dug the heels of her palms into his back to lever herself up and off him, as if he was the one at fault. She felt his soft chuckles reverberate under her hands, and a small fission of prickles assaulted her neck. As Delia ordered the crowd away, Al assessed her victim and concluded that she had not been wrong to think that he was her boyfriend.

He possessed the same blue-black hair, tanned skin and aristocratic bone structure. She knew for a fact that his eyes would be the same brilliant blue, but since he was currently assuring Jon that he was okay, she couldn't confirm it. Al tucked her thumbs into the pockets of her shorts and realised that she had just met the elusive Roger Conte.

When Jon came to introduce them, the apology died on the tip of her tongue at the sharp assessment the man gave her. "I'd say she was welcoming you rather typically," Jon said, deadpan. Roger Conte smirked and Al frowned. Delia, leaning against the mirror, did the same.

Did everyone know about that drunken disastrous episode in the closet?

"It's great to finally meet you," Roger offered smoothly, holding out his hand. Al reluctantly, but determinedly accepted it. Dear cousin Roger's palms were smooth and free of any calluses. A luxury man, Al deduced. The only scars on his hands were probably those of faded paper-cuts. Her father would get along famously with him.

"Uh, yeah, you too." Turning to Jon, she quirked her head and he gave her a small wink before ushering her out of the suffocating bathroom.

"No one ever said anything about this being a party for him," she blurted two minutes later, easily matching his strides across the lawn. That explained the older looking guests she'd seen dispersed around the house.

He shrugged and headed towards an impatient Alex. The other boy rolled his eyes when he caught sight of them and took one last drag off his cigarette before crushing it and hopping shotgun into his beloved Mustang. "It's just an excuse to throw a party," Jon explained dryly.

"What took so damn long?" Alex demanded. "You two can get your freak on lat—_ow_, dammit. What was that for, bro?"

Al ignored the way the two bantered back and forth, and slid into the driver's seat. She was too much of a chicken to look into the rear-view mirror, fearing she'd catch Jon's eye. Inside, she was privately thrilled that Jon had slapped Alex on the side of his head at his little comment. While the concept of them 'getting their freak on' disgusted her, it excited her too. And that, boys and girls, was what worried her more than anything.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Lyrics taken from David Bowie's song Diamond Dogs. Many thanks to Ainsaboo, Ozymandyas, Sascha, Ana, FateStryke, and the Anon reviewer for reviewing the previous chapter! :)


	15. Area of Carnalistic Doom

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter Fifteen: Area of Carnalistic Doom**

* * *

As Al drove the Mustang back down the Contes' winding driveway, she spotted two boys exiting a familiar car. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel fractionally, heart thundering a little in nervousness. Alex, oblivious to her inner spaz attack, jumped out of his Mustang as soon as Al parked. He hurried around the three-tiered stone fountain, arms loaded with bags of chips and beer nuts, and sent them all an impatient tut over his shoulder. "Yo, hurry up if you don't want to miss the game!"

Al shared a look with Jon, before pocketing Alex's car keys for safe keeping.

"Here's your chance to make amends," Jon said, lugging the packs of Red Bull from the back seat and nudging her forward.

"Har har. That makes me feel _so_ much better."

"Quit the sarcasm. You're making a big deal out of nothing. Just tell them you're sorry, and then you'll all be friends again."

She gave him a pointed stare. "And you know so much about making up with your buddies?"

"No," was the blunt, blasé reply. "But I've watched movies."

"You're not helping, idiot."

"It's better than moping around, at least, like you've been doing these past weeks. They're your best mates. What could go wrong?" Jon winked and smacked her bottom as he passed her. "Atta girl!"

He swerved her fist mockingly, and nodded at Doug and Zach before disappearing just as quickly in the same direction as Alex. Al, cheeks aflame, struggled between devising a plan of revenge or approaching her friends. She hadn't spoken to them in the weeks since their tiff in the school hallway. Why was she finding it incredibly hard to do something as simple as talk to them, after being inseparable for years? These guys knew her; better than anyone else. It was plain from Doug's uncertainty and Zach's frosty nonchalance—which she had to point out, was fooling no one—that she'd be the one to start the ball rolling.

_Pussies_, she thought good-naturedly, and then scuffed her sneaker against the gravel. "Hey."

"We got your text," Doug explained, skipping a hello. "Uh, we weren't sure if we were coming, so that's why we're here so late. Hope the party's still kicking."

"It's just getting in the swing of things, actually." Al cringed at how lame she just sounded, and judging by Zach's snort, he thought so too. "Yeah, so it's, er, cool."

"Yeah, okay."

The awkward silence lasted longer than was comfortable. Al could see that both her friends appeared wary and tired, as if they took every day more seriously than they used to. Even the darkness of the street couldn't hide how cranky Zach was, and Al felt a stab of guilt at the prospect that she had been cruising along and obliviously enjoying herself with her new relationship, while her old friends waited for her on the sidelines, a crumb not even thrown their way.

But it was their fault too,she thought darkly. _They_ were the ones who insisted that her offers to hang out were 'pity invites', or however it was that Zach worded it.

Heaven forbid she dare risk offending them further!

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Zach broke the silence, his hands thrown in the air dramatically. "Look Al, you invited us—well Gary and Raoul did too, but whatever—and Doug and I weren't stupid enough to ignore the proverbial oak tree you were offering. Cos that's what you were offering, right?"

Al blinked, forgetting how in your face Zach could get. When she didn't answer, the blond boy rolled his eyes. "Well? If we're all going to make up and shit, we better do it quickly. I need your help in Mukhtab's assignment, and I _know_ you've read the text."

"Zach…" Doug started, shaking his head. "This isn't how we planned this to go."

"The hell, man? We aren't pansies. I'm being honest, like you said, but no way am I in for trading sob stories and having a group hug. Don't look at me like that, Trebond. I know what you're going to say!"

"And what is that exactly?" Al inquired, arms crossed.

"That you don't believe me."

"I can rest easily now that I'm assured you're not a complete dunderhead. You're the most likely here to want a group hug, you know."

"Fuck this apology shit. I've said my piece, and you're knocking me?"

"What?"

"Calm down," Doug warned, uncharacteristically shoving at Zach's chest. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."

Zach chose silence and projected his fury instead through a killer glare. Any fiercer and Al would have been a pile of ashes. That was the trouble with hanging out with these monkeys; they picked up some of her habits and relayed it back twice-fold, the weight of it from sheer unexpectedness alone.

"I'm here because I know you wouldn't have the guts to speak first." Al lifted her chin up at Doug's words, hating him for being right. And now, when she felt how much tension there was between them—between her and these boys she considered her brothers in all but name and blood—she admitted to herself, albeit reluctantly, that she missed them. In the moments when Jon and everyone else didn't hold her attention, she often wondered what would happen if she just crashed at Doug's and bummed around his house while they all abused the Xbox without any worries.

"You said last time that we didn't understand," Doug continued, holding her gaze for the first time that night. "But we do, Al. We aren't pissed that you don't spend every day of the week with us. That's petty. But it's that you don't spend _any_ time with us at all. That's the problem, Al. What happened?"

"I… I don't know."

"Well, that's great," Zach mused rather bitingly. "Doesn't surprise me but. Al's always been different. What's it feel like to have emotions?"

Al pointedly ignored him. _Just tell them you're sorry, and then you'll all be friends again._ That was what Jon had said. Taking a deep breath, Al placed her hands in her pocket and curled them into fists. "I'm sorry that I haven't been the greatest friend lately. Do you forgive me now!?" Dammit. She hadn't meant for that last part to come out a shout.

Two widened eyes looked back at her, and suddenly, Doug and Zach bent over and started laughing. Incensed, Al scowled at them, her pride beyond bruised. As Zach so eloquently put it, to hell with this apology shite! She had never had to apologise to anyone before, and she had no intent on changing it if they were just going to laugh back in her face.

Temper rising, she turned on her heel and was about to stride back inside when Doug called out for her to stop. "Don't leave—damn, Al. Hang on. We aren't laughing at your apology."

"Sure doesn't look like it to me, jackass!"

"Resorting to name calling, I see," Zach mused, his high spirits a sudden 180 from the bitter, unforgiving Zach of two minutes ago. "Makes sense that you'd end up feeling the victim in the end. Far out, Al. You can't just expect to be forgiven like that! Forgiveness is something to be earned, not demanded."

"Okaaaay. So you aren't forgiving me?"

"Not right now, no."

"We will eventually, though. Just give us some time." That was Doug, ever the peacemaker. Al held much respect and resentment towards him.

"Hmph. This isn't what I wanted. Jon never said this was part of the whole forgiveness thing."

"I don't imagine Jon has ever really felt the need to be forgiven before. The sun doesn't shine out of his ass, FYI."

"It doesn't shine out of yours, either, man."

"Jon does have more money than the both of you, so suck shit. And by the way, Zach, it's the proverbial _olive_ _branch_. Not a fucking oak tree!"

"You know, I think I regre—"

"No, you don't. Alright!" Doug called out, standing between Zach and her resolutely. "Hm, that was easy. How bout we go inside and actually catch some of the party?"

* * *

Al entered Jon's room tentatively, switching on the lights with her eyes closed. When silence greeted her—at least, as much silence as she could get with all the ruckus happening downstairs—she opened her lids and let out a sigh of relief. She only allowed herself to step further into the room when she was certain that the door clicked shut loudly behind her, and stayed that way. A quick peep into the en suite bathroom confirmed her total solitude, and she collapsed into one of the black leather sofas by Jon's wall-length bookshelf.

She was partied out, to put it candidly, even though the one time she did get up to dance was because Raoul and Gary had bullied her into doing it. She didn't enjoy it, but neither did she hate it; though the sweaty bodies and loud music did fight for her attention as much as the amounts of cleavage she was exposed to. Why did her fellow sex have to lower themselves to such levels? There were enough sexual chemicals being produced in the living room that Al wouldn't have been too shocked if several of the seniors ripped their clothes off and started mating like animals on Lianne Conte's precious Persian rugs.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she felt her cheeks burn at the memory of what she had walked into less than ten minutes ago. She had been ready to check out the guest room in which she'd be sleeping in, but instead of finding a neatly made bed patiently waiting, there had been a tangle of bodies on top of the covers. Al had stared long enough to make out the features of Francis, her shy blond friend and Lori Zimmerman sucking face. Lori's dress was half-way up her chest, and Al had immediately stepped out of the room and slammed the door close before she could utter a word.

The act itself hadn't surprised her as much as her embarrassment over the whole situation. Al hardly ever got embarrassed or awkward about anything, much less something as 'unimpressive' as a pair of teenagers making out, so it was disconcerting to discover that things had changed for her in that regard. In fact, if she was to scout her memories over the recent month, she could see that she'd gotten more and more softer than Al Trebond had ever been. She was becoming _girly, _and that did not please her.

Not a single bit.

If she let herself go, let herself revert back to the shy, open, eager to please idiot that she'd been before Ralon Malven browbeated his way into her life and showed her how weak and disillusioned her images were about high school in the city, then she was doomed. To unlock the Alanna Trebond she'd kept hidden for the past two years would make her _vulnerable_, and she couldn't afford that. Not when her circumstances were so different, so accessible and dangerously manipulated by a powerful family she was now tied to through contract and a future marriage, and the public to whom she had to put on a good show.

Becoming vulnerable, less tough, more Alanna than Al would just mess up all the masks she had to wear. Was she the enthusiastic Alanna of her past, or the realistic Al of now who had worked so hard to fashion a new face and armour for herself? Or perhaps, she was the girl, the stranger slowly worming her way into Al's heart, who had to protect both Alanna and Al while smiling for the cameras?

The Al with Alanna's dreams and feelings.

Jonathan's Al.

"What are you doing sitting so still?"

Al jumped at the sound of Jon's voice, and involuntarily shuddered at how canny it was the he showed up now of all times. She didn't believe he could hear her thoughts, but it was still crafty at how _connected_ they seemed lately. It was whacko and corny, but that was the only way she knew how to explain it.

"Just thinking," she mumbled, turning away when Jon started removing his shoes and ridding his pockets of his cell and other curios that he'd accumulated over the evening. She hadn't even heard when he had come into the room! "Are you sure it's okay that I stay in here?"

"I'm not going to ravish you, if that's what you're thinking." Jon's smirk was apparent, his repetitive motions of making certain that his room was how he had left it not deterring his arrogant impudence. "Alex is completely wiped, and the other two guest rooms are taken. Unless you want to share with Gary and Cyth?"

Al made a sour face and removed her socks. A part of her was glad that she wouldn't be making any contact with the bed that Francis and Lori had been romping around in—Alex was too wasted to have the faintest clue—and she happily and willingly gave it up to cater Alex's needs. Furthermore, she had no plans to even be near the room where the "humping bunnies", as Raoul and Zach so kindly put it, would no doubt be… resting.

Sharing a room with Roger Conte was absolutely out of the question.

While she had initial doubts about bunking in Jon's room—for obvious reasons that only a complete lump head wouldn't know—she was fairly confident that lots of pillows and blankets would shield her from Jon (or from herself) while she snoozed on the couch in his bedroom.

Jon hadn't even offered his bed, like a gentlemen, and Al appreciated the gesture.

Jonathan's bed was dangerous.

"Here," the devil said, his words perfectly sober despite the amount of alcohol he had consumed. Thom, after finally appearing after so and so hours of invisibility, had been careful to keep an eye on Jon's drinking that night. No one wanted a repeat of that drunken disastrous episode in early September, and Al shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. He had reeked of bitter beer then, and she'd almost strangled his unconscious self to death… "Toothbrush, Al. Al?"

She jerked back and looked at the toothbrush packet in his hand, and caught it just in time to avoid a hit in the face with the plastic. "Thanks."

As Jon flipped on the large lamp near his bed and turned off the overhead lights, Al rummaged through her brother's bag and took out a grey shirt and a pair of boxers. When Jon disappeared into the bathroom, Al hastily changed out of her clothes and into Thom's spares. There was nothing she could do about her underwear; as much as she'd prefer a fresh pair, she'd have to wear the same ones until she got home.

"What did you think of Roger?" Jon asked genuinely, and Al took it as a cue that it was safe to venture into the en suite. As soon as she stepped foot into the spacious area, Al's eyes widened and she gritted her teeth. Jon Conte was slim and athletic; boasting of a swimmer's body rather than a rugby player's. As much as Al could describe at length how he looked in only a white wife beater and a pair of black Sponge Bob boxer shorts, the only word that came to mind was _smooth_. He was the most hairless boy she'd ever seen; and the movements in which he lathered his toothbrush up with toothpaste filled her belly with panic.

Snap out of, Alanna Marie! Striding forward, she ripped her own brush from its plastic and held it under the tap. "He looks like you," she began, somehow understanding now that Jon wanted her to like Roger as much as he did. "But I didn't talk to him a lot, so I can't really say. He seems really accomplished." Was that the right thing to say?

"He is," was the reply. "He studied law and medicine, which angered Gramps. Everyone was expecting Roger to take up the family business after he finished high school and went to college. But he didn't, and Gramps wrote him out of the will. Dad felt sorry for him, since they both knew what it was like to go against Jasson Conte's orders and carve out their own careers." Jon scrubbed his teeth thoughtfully, before spitting out. "Then Gramps died. And because it never specified in the will, Dad offered Roger full reigns of my share of Conte Corp. Until I can gain it, that is, and we meet the other conditions of the will."

Al nodded, dragging her own toothbrush slowly over her molars. "Roger's suitable for the job?"

"The Board aren't very fond of him, even though they made it obvious in the past few years that Gramps shouldn't be in control. It doesn't matter if Roger and Gramps had a bad falling out; Roger's still a Conte, and the Board want Conte Corp to be a public company."

"And you don't," gurgle, "want that, do you?"

"Like hell. Can you imagine all those employees who'll be sacked? Gramps taught me everything I need to know about Conte Corp. Somewhere, I learnt to want to fight for it and run it for myself one day. He's the first Conte to be successful in business and monopolize the financial market. The _only_ one to make our family more than just a line of spoiled, posh socialites coming from old money."

As he rinsed out his mouth, Al stared at their image in the vanity mirror. This was a side of Jon that she hadn't seen before. Apart from the fact that it was the first time she'd heard him say so many words in one go, she couldn't help but admire how dedicated he was to his family, and how ambitious and specific he was towards his future. In comparison, Al hardly knew what she wanted to do or be. Maybe Thom was right. Perhaps there was some good in this engagement; if she had nothing to fall back on after high school, she could always appeal to Principal Conte to give a good word about her wherever she ended up.

"Man," Al managed ruefully. "That's some—those were mighty fine words."

Jon quirked an eyebrow and wiped his face with a towel. He was boasting his agile physicality, and Al was both envious and appreciative. When he spoke, his tone was slightly defensive. Weird. "It's just how I feel."

"Right." Al bent down, rinsing her mouth out under the tap. As she reached for the spare face towel beside her, she noticed that Jon's feet were still in the same position. What was so interesting about—her butt! Wrenching her head up, she caught Jon staring at her backside unashamedly. There was no remorse or guilt in his face, and when she glowered, he simply stared back at her with his unreadable mask. "For someone so small, you sure have a nice ass."

"How dare you!"

PUNCH!

Instead of meeting his face, her fist collided with his bicep and when she swung around to try and sock him a second time, he pulled her towards him harshly and sealed his lips over hers. Her hands balled up and hit at his shoulders pathetically, but by then, Al had reached onto her tiptoes to take part in their little pashing duel.

She had discovered two days ago that she quite liked this activity if she angled her mouth right and avoided the awkward bumping of their noses. It took them three tries to get it right; the first in Jon's car on the ride to school, the second just after their shared lunch period ended, and the third as they were practising her three-point shots in basketball. Feeling Jon grasping at her waist, she put pressure on her feet and boosted up just in time to help him lift her up next to the sink.

Alarm bells went off in her head at how fast they seemed to be moving; their mouths were fusing together and she was permitting his goddamn _tongue_ to slide with hers! His hands were kneading her sides, as if he wanted to be inside her skin at the same time that she gripped his ears to keep his lips stuck to hers.

It was wild, crazy madness that Al had been dreading all evening, but as soon as it was just the two of them together like this—panic and anxiety flitted away to make room for strange heat and want want want.

A particularly fierce wave of kissing overtook them, and Al's head bumped into the mirror behind her. "Ow!" she moaned, and was horrified at how needy it sounded rather than pained. Jon opened his eyes and she must have looked like a total freak, for he leaned back and before she could turn away, he hefted her up and carried her out of the bathroom in a rush. The momentum had Al immediately clamp her legs around his waist. She touched her calves briefly in a silly reassurance that she had shaved her legs.

_Oh Hell, did this make her a slut or something?_

"Jon! Wait, shit, mmm, wait, aren't we going too fast?" she babbled like a psycho, acutely aware that he had just dumped her onto his bed. He was pressing his groin against her shorts and she felt a lightning ache in the space between her thighs. Holy! "Jon, you asshole! I'm not having s—"

"Shut up, Trebond," Jon snapped and slapped a hand over her mouth as he buried his nose into his bed beside her face. "We're not ready for sex, idiot. Just let me take a breath. Fuck! What happened? God!" He raised himself up on his elbows and peered down at her. His blue eyes were glinting, and he looked like he'd just been mauled by a banshee.

"This is all your fault!" she suddenly accused, and planting her palms on his chest, thrust him away for her. Jon, going along with it, collapsed onto his back next to her and started swearing. She bore holes into his ceiling and didn't care if her face was as red as a tomato. There were so many emotions warring inside her; anger, fright, exhilaration, longing… she was going NUTS!

It didn't matter that she craved more of his weight on top of her.

It didn't matter that she liked the way that they had all but devoured each other's faces.

It just didn't matter!

"Where are you going?" Jon demanded, his voice sending some supernatural vibrations all over her body and arrowing down to tighten her nipples and make her belly flip. _Just bloody great!_ When she didn't reply, he rolled off the bed. "Take the bed, Alanna. I'll sleep on the couch."

"I don't want to sleep anywhere near thhh-th-that area of carnalistic doom!"

Jon blanched in confusion and fear. "That what?"

Al blew a raspberry at him, and snatching one of the spare Afghans on the couch, bundled herself up in it like a spring roll. She pointed with her mouth at the imaginary line separating them and bared her teeth. "Cross it and die, Rich Boy! Goodnight! I hope the bed bugs fucking bite!" Turning away from him, she huffed out loud and threw herself like a marshmallow onto the couch.

"You're insane, woman!"

She heard Jon breath loudly in disbelief at her absurdity and childishness, but when Al refused to move, he let out a growl and left her alone. Squeezing her eyes shut, Al bit into the afghan and ordered herself to sleep at once. When it didn't work, she cursed Jon Conte, toothpaste and her traitorous breasts to Hell.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know it's late, but belated Happy New Year! Many thanks for all your wonderful reviews, and speaking of -- if you reviewed this chapter earlier (when I posted the Bonus Christmas Chapter) and were using a logged in account, then you won't be able to review Chap 15 again under the same account. Just thought those kind reviewers would like a heads up.


	16. Lull

**Diamond Dogs**

**Chapter 16: Lull**

**

* * *

**

The smarter students steered clear of her path as soon as they spotted the disgruntled scowl etched on her face. She saw surprise on a few faces, and a grimace on others, as if they hadn't seen _this_ Al—the one that steamed around like a brooding bull—for a while. Al didn't want to think of the reason why, knowing that it would lead to thoughts that would just annoy her further.

She'd spent the rest of the weekend in a bit of a foul mood, and it had worsened whenever she let her mind slip to relive the minutes when she had made out with Jon. She hated that her thoughts and her body were unco-operating with her anger, and while she was stewing about it at home, Jon Conte had probably forgotten all about it. Even if he had been with Delia for close to two years, Jonathan was a popular jock, and there were bound to be other girls he had been with in the many times that he had "broken up" with Delia.

Al was just another stupidly willing face for him to kiss. And she wasn't even experienced like the rest of them.

Uncaring of her darkening expression, she stalked down the hall and up a flight of stairs. Upon reaching her locker, she swung it open wildly and threw her backpack into it. There was no use trying to bottle up her frustration—at herself, at Jon, at this physical thing that existed between them—for she knew that she'd go off like a firecracker when the time came to snap.

"Whoa, did someone pour acid in your cereal this morning?"

She ignored Nate and reached for her History textbook and Economics homework. "Not now, Salmalin. I'm in a shitty mood."

Her voice must have been more serious and quieter than she thought, for Nate placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, do you want to talk about it?"

Pausing, she stared at his concerned frown and nearly considered the offer had it not been for the girls waiting around them nervously. Al took a few seconds to observe their surroundings and noticed that posters advertising the Coming Home dance were already up and gracing the school. "As if I'd talk about something so personal with you," she said snootily, glad that his responding eye-roll wasn't the least bit offended. This was why Nate was so easy to speak to. He never judged her; never directed any self-righteous philosophy towards her about her business. "Now, shoo."

Who was she to keep him away from his fans and prospective Coming Home date?

Slapping her back, his tall figure turned towards the trio of girls and they walked down to the exit leading to the quad. Rubbing her brow, she finished getting her things ready for her first few classes and locked her locker. It was odd not to be walking to homeroom with Jon, or even Doug and Zach, and she felt a little self-conscious of the fact. Stealing some quick glances, she noted with relief that most of the attention that had followed her for weeks were now non-existent.

Geoffrey and Jon had both been right; eventually, the novelty of her was dying down. Perhaps things were looking up for her, she hoped, and allowed a small smile to hover on her lips. Maybe this Monday wouldn't be so bad after all.

She was just about to head for Thom when she spotted Doug's familiar head in the crowd. "Doug!" Hurrying up to him, she stood on tiptoe and bumped his shoulder with her own. She was about to apologise again for declining his offer to catch a ride to school together—for it would have been an inconvenience for him since Thom was already at home—when she sighted the small girl he was chatting with.

A freshman, Al noted, and a leering grin broke out on her face at the girl's wide-eyed stare of unease and also Doug's abnormally red cheeks. "I see how it is," she teased, before pinning the girl with a drilling once-over. The girl might be uneasy, but Al didn't like the defiance glaring back at her. "Tread carefully, or else. You're a pretty thing, but squish Doug's heart and your face won't be as it was today. Oh, and I'm Al."

"Al," Doug warned, his face contorted in pain at her interference. "Could you be a little nicer?"

"Nicer?" Al echoed, and stepped past him into their homeroom. She made her voice as high and saccharine as possible. "S'not in my vocab, sorry. Don't be late now!"

Chuckling, she headed towards her normal seat where Zach was waiting with a raised eyebrow. Collapsing into the chair, she let out a deep sigh. It was good to have things back to normal with these boyos.

"D'ya check out Doug's new shortie?" Zach asked, a toothpick already poking out from the corner of his mouth. "Never knew our man was into the young'uns."

"And what about you, Zach? At least Doug has a girl."

* * *

As soon as Gary and Jon entered their History class, Al's lightened mood vanished. She made certain to project her pissed off state as much as she could, so The God could see how much he hadn't impressed her and how much he wouldn't be permitted to put his hands—or mouth—on her again soon. She deliberately chose the window seat in their little row of three, assuming they would get the message that she did not want to sit in the middle any longer.

She'd obviously assumed wrong, for Jon moved to sit beside her. Annoyed, she hooked her foot on one of the chair's legs and deliberately scraped it back, disabling her boyfriend-cum-fiancé from sitting there. He was about to say something, she could feel it, but he saw some of the curious looks they were getting and instead pushed Gary to trade places with him.

Satisfied, Al tugged the chair forward again and swivelled in her chair to face the front properly. She greeted Gary cheerfully and, to his amusement, she ignored his cousin as she would a tittering gossipmonger. Evidently, Jonathan had informed Gary about their little mishap after the party on Saturday. Did Gary also know about the six missed calls and four text messages she'd purposely not bothered to check?

"So what'd you do yesterday?" Gary chattered, making small talk. "Didn't see you at breakfast, and you didn't come to church."

"No," she replied, and opened up her notebook when Mr Olau began writing on the board. "I went home like I was supposed to and did my homework. Quiz next period for Econ." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jon zipping and unzipping his pencil case repetitively, knowing that he was more alert than ever that their fellow classmates could be watching him and his little "problem".

He usually avoided his OCD tendencies when she was directly beside him as a distraction.

"So you studied?" Gary continued, sounding like he couldn't believe it.

"Yeah."

When she didn't offer anymore, he nodded. "Are you confident for your quiz?"

"Yeah."

"We can swap—are you sure you don't want to sit in the middle?"

"Yeah."

"You're going to keep answering with 'yeah', aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to kiss Jon and make up?"

"No."

"Gary_, _knock it off."

"Dammit," Gary calculated, and leaned back in his seat with a grunt. "You two are the strangest, most peculiar two people ever in the history of… ever. Ooh, get it? In the _history_ of ever?"

"…"

"I can't believe we're related. Al will speak to me without your help."

What arrogance! Al leaned forward to spell it for Jon Conte. "Or maybe I won't speak to you without Gary's help."

He glared at her for the first time, and Al was instantly reminded of that day he offered her shelter under his giant orange umbrella. It was almost as if he was reverting back to his stupid mask. _Pot meet kettle, _that taunting voice whispered inside her mind. Shut up!

"Then so be it," he commented, his eyes light with aggravation. "Continue being childish. You seem to be good at that."

The nerve of the guy! Al bit down on her lip, not appreciating his little accusation. Determined to be the better person, she stuck her nose in the air and paid attention to Mr Olau's lecture about Heracles and his 12 Labours. When Mr Olau turned off the lights to put up the overhead slides, Al tried to block out Jon and Gary giving each other significant looks. It proved to be successful, because the small whisperings of her peers began to grow like wildfire, and Al was caught between wanting for it to stop and wanting Jon to suffer.

* * *

**Corus High's Gossip Column  
The latest HOT GOSS brought to you by Miri & Dee**

Monday, 10th November  
10:12am by Miri

Our resident golden couple has had a lover's tiff, as witnesses from Mr Olau's first period Modern History class claim! According to onlookers, Alanna behaved "like a kid throwing a tantrum" and refused to allow a repentant Jon to sit beside her. It was left to Gary Naxen to settle the fuse between the two… but I know I'm not the first to express my outrage at Alanna's lack of decorum. Jon must be so embarrassed!

If any of you know the reason behind their dispute, then don't be afraid to tell us. As much as we'd hate how much pain it must cause Jon to have their lover's paradise shattered and made public, perhaps he needs to be shown Al Trebond's true colours.

Get it true and first here at corusgoss dot com!

* * *

By lunch, half of the student body seemed to be aware that Jon and she were on the outs with each other. Al instantly despised them all: one, for presenting her with smiling, solemn faces—only to turn around and whisper about her behind her back, and two, for treating the debacle as if she and Jon had broken up. Sure, they weren't exactly talking or being civil, but they were still together. An engagement wasn't something easily broken—especially one as negotiated as theirs. Did her peers really have nothing else to do but speculate obsessively over what was Not Their Business?

Grabbing a random sandwich, Al manoeuvred her way between the tables and headed for the gymnasium. She heard Raoul and Gary's loud banter before she saw them, and quickly ducked her head as the group turned into the hall. Several of the guys from the basketball team surrounded them, and she made a quick exit before any could spot her. It wouldn't do well to be around people who'd just make her crankier from their obnoxious comments, and she was feeling particularly spiteful about her situation.

Sighing, she strode into the gymnasium and seeing it empty, hopped up onto the highest row of bleachers. It would be just her today, she thought distantly, and unwrapped the turkey sandwich with relish. Would anyone even notice her missing?

* * *

Later that week, the silence was broken. Al, disliking the fact that she might have gone overboard, gladly placed all the blame squarely in Jon's lap. He didn't, after all, make a move to clear things up between them until three days had passed since their little spat in History class. Her nasty conscience did remind her that she hadn't made any efforts either, and that it required two people to work at a relationship.

Uneasy, she attributed such a tender issue to her lack of experience.

* * *

It was nearing five-thirty and getting progressively darker when Al saw the wheels of the shiny Porsche slowing down to cruise beside her on the curb side. With her heart suddenly beating faster, Al forgot her customary scowl and tightened her jacket around her to ward off the cool breeze. Perhaps she wanted to protect herself too, in advance, for any potential barbs that could arise and fly this way and that.

Heaven knew that Jon's pride was as great as hers, and she was seeing a different side of him that she knew existed, but had never bargained on actually seeing. He was always supposed to remain that imperturbable mystery; nothing more.

"Alanna," he called out softly, the window of the passenger seat half-way down. "Get in. It's getting cold."

"The rest of the walk to the nearest bus stop isn't that far. I can take care of myself."

He let out an exasperated sigh, and Al felt a small amount of guilt. She was making it difficult for him, especially since the first words she'd spoken to him in three days weren't particularly nice. She slowed down her pace, but didn't stop walking. As much as she felt annoyed at him for ignoring her for the past seventy-two hours, she missed sitting on the soft leather seats and warmth interior of the car. Her nose, while usually meticulous, longed for the scent of his cologne.

"Please. Just don't be stubborn about this. We need to talk."

Wanting to stomp her foot like a kid, she hesitated before throwing caution to the wind. _Damn cologne_, she thought, and threw open the passenger door. Upon settling in, she inhaled like a crazy addict and ignored the smirk that Jon hadn't the courtesy to hide. "What are you doing driving around these parts so late, anyway?" she asked, and then frowned. "You weren't waiting around for me, were you?"

"Maybe," was the cryptic reply. Resting the back of her head on the seat, she watched her companion from under her lashes, unaware of the sheer image she was projecting from exercising an age-old feminine gesture. Rather, in her own bubble, she trained her greedy eyes on Jon, with his concentrated expression and strong arms. Her gaze lowered to his thighs, which were encased in tight dark jeans. "Stop staring," he whispered, and cleared his throat in a way that jolted Al out of her staring and brought an embarrassed flush to her cheeks.

"Why haven't you been talking to me?" she wanted to ask, and by the way that his hands tensed on the steering wheel, she realised that she actually had. "Do you want to break up or something? Is this what normally happe—"

"You said you didn't want me going near you." Al fell silent when he spoke. "And then in class, you put Gary between us, and I didn't want things to get worse. You're different to the other girls I've been with, Al. I didn't—still don't know—how I'm supposed to deal with you—_us._" He paused then, and sent her a quick glance out of the corner of his eyes before turning his attention back onto the road. "And my pride wouldn't let me come and beg or something equally lame like that. Especially when you wanted nothing to do with me. So I chalked it up to you needing time."

Unintentionally chastised and slightly impressed, Al bit her lip and played with the zipper on her jacket. It hadn't truly crossed her mind that this relationship was a first for Jon, too, and the knowledge that she was so different made her both anxious and smug at the same time. All up, it was good to know that she wasn't the only one affected by what was between them, nor the only one worrying about it so much. The genuineness in his voice convinced her of that.

He was in this as much as she was.

"It just all went so fast," she offered quietly, pleading with him silently to _understand_. "If you know what's good for you, you won't laugh or say a word, but—it scared me a little." The sudden intensity of her feelings, and her—her _lust_ was overwhelming.

He nodded. "I get it now. We got a little too excited. Maybe we just need to get to know each other."

"But we already do," she pointed out.

Jon fiddled around with the headlights, seeing as it was now dark enough to warrant their use. "Do we really? What's my middle name? Why is pizza my favourite food? Did you know that my parents are really Croatian?"

"Your parents are Croatian?!"

"No, my father's Irish, and my mom originally comes from Greece."

"Conte doesn't sound Irish," Al commented, inspecting Jon's poker face. She had no idea about any of this!

He winked at her and stopped at the traffic lights before the endless roundabouts that would lead to her house. "That's because it isn't. My parents are neither Croatian, Irish, nor Greek." At her glower, he chuckled. "Do you get my point? We really have no idea about the small, simple things about each other that we should."

Crossing her arms, she sniffed. "Okay, fine, so we don't. What are you proposing? That we get to know each other? This sounds absolutely rotten, by the way, but it does have its advantages." If it would keep her hormones under control, then all the better.

"Shake on it?" He was smiling as he held out a hand, and Al wished that she could be the road so that those brilliant blue orbs could be focused on her so intently. Exaggerating her sigh, she gripped his hand and froze when, instead of letting go, he brought her hand up to his lips and gently kissed the knuckle of her thumb. "I know we said that we'd be back-tracking for a while, but how about a kiss for each fact we exchange?"

Tugging her hand back, she snorted and tried to wipe away the tingling in her fingers. When he leaned towards her in the dark, she pressed her foot deeper into her sneakers. "Jasson," he murmured. "Jasson is my middle name."

Jonathan Jasson Conte. It made sense, yet—"In your dreams," she replied back smoothly and tried not to laugh at the humour and crest-fallen tone to his sigh. "No kisses. Just drive."

* * *

Finishing their last game for the season was a load off Al's shoulders. As she let the hot water beat down on her shoulders and relax her sore muscles, she pondered wistfully over all the shortcomings that the team could have avoided if they'd made the effort to play better as a cohort.

Volleyball was very much a team sport, and if half the girls had taken the high road and spent less time trying to compete with Al for the ball, then they could have very much slotted a position for the team into the semi-finals. But alas, they were out of the competition as a losing quarter-finals participant, and while the taste of disappointment lingered on everyone's tongues, Al made it a point not to dwell too much on her own failures.

She knew that she could have been more pleasant to those girls, but they made it difficult for her with Josiane leading their actions like a trooping commander. If it wasn't for the fact that Al was on such good terms with Coach, and that she could throw a killer spike, then Al would probably no longer be on the team. While she was friends with half of them, the other half just didn't get along with Al's peculiar brand of personality.

Turning off the shower taps, Al reached for her towel and soaked up the silence of the changing rooms. She'd been unable to sleep on the mini-bus ride back to school from the courts; the girls' chatter too much to handle after such a tiring morning, as well as the marked absence of her much needed iPod to tune them out. The redhead made a mental note to never forget her beloved music player.

Having waited till the others were finished in the showers, Al made certain that she'd be the last one.

She wasn't in the mood for idle chit-chat, or the snickers and sly looks from Josiane and the friends that the blonde had made when she'd joined the team. She just wanted to wash away their small defeat in the comp, and go home to relax. They'd been given the day off from classes, and Al was a little more optimistic in finishing off the day to start a new one. Even the team's loss couldn't overshadow the relief and excitement from yesterday afternoon. Jon had even been the one to drop her off to school at 5am to catch the mini-bus that would take the team to the volleyball quarter-finals.

He'd have AP English right now, she mused, picturing his schedule.

Drying off, she slipped on her underwear and her bra, and wrapped the towel around her, making sure to tuck in the end under her armpit. Exiting from the stall, she padded to the benches, and stopped mid-step. Blinking, she looked around furtively for her clothes and found nothing but an empty trash can and two towels left behind on the hooks. The other stalls were devoid of her t-shirt and jeans, and the lockers were all bare and open in the change rooms, as was required after using the female showers.

As the water dripped from her hair all over her shoulders and chest, so did her anger. _Stay calm_, she willed herself. _Maybe you didn't leave your clothes on the benches._ But Al was certain she did, for it was her customary and automatic routine and there was nowhere else to place them. Her clothes had never been bothered before, so why now? She hadn't a single doubt that they had been taken, because no one else had been in the shower rooms when she'd gone in.

Could someone have mistakenly thought that her shirt and jeans had belonged to and been left behind by one of the other girls, and hadn't realised that Al was using the last stall at the end? Countless possibilities flew into Al's head, and she knew that she couldn't just accuse someone of grabbing her clothes for the sake of it—with no proof, above all. Tapping her foot to try and control her temper, she breathed in and out a few times before concluding that she would have to go out into the hall half-naked and in only a towel. Fucking hell.

She shivered and crept towards the doors, praying that there was no one outside of class. The sophomore lockers were directly in the vicinity, and perhaps there would be a fellow female student walking through the area. Gathering her infamous steel resolve, she counted to five before standing at the door to the changing rooms proudly, as if her barely covered state was an everyday occurrence.

Luck did take pity on her somewhat, for there was no one in the hallway. Letting out a relieved whoosh of air, she contemplated making a dash for it all the way to her locker on the floor below. But there were so many risks! Any second now, people could pour in from everywhere, turn corners, go up the stairs—or worse: the bell signalling fifth period could ring. If only she had her cell with her. But the pathetic piece of technology was safely ensconced at the back of her locker. She was, indisputably, the stupidest person alive.

Gripping onto the door ledge, she was ready to cry defeat and wait for the next batch of girls to come into the change rooms—surely, a class had PE right then—when two freshmen girls turned into the corridor and caught her attention.

Al had never in her entire existence felt so happy to see a pair of giggling girls swinging a hall pass between them.

"Psst!" she hollered discreetly as they approached, and smiled sweetly as they slowed down with wary eyes at her appearance. "Listen, I'm in a bit of a tangle right now. Someone has, er, accidentally taken my clothes and I need you to—_shit,_" she croaked and jumped back further into the change rooms when she saw the figure that had just entered the hall.

The girls looked behind them nervously and just about sizzled at the sight of the tall, handsome blue-eyed man striding towards them in concern. "Shouldn't you be in class right now, ladies?" Al heard him ask, and reddened at the stickiness of her situation, and his appearance in it. God, could the day get any worse?

"Um, there's a girl in there and she needs some help," one of the freshmen girls piped in, and Al groaned inwardly in annoyance.

"I'll see what I can do," Roger Conte replied kindly, and shooed the girls off. _What the fuck was Jonathan's cousin doing at Corus High, and why the hell was he prowling the hallways?_ "Alanna. What's the matter? Don't bother hiding, I saw you the first time. Do you need me to call a teacher or…?"

Holding the door firmly in front of her, she poked her head around cautiously and found him waiting politely with his hands in his trouser pockets. She couldn't help but be attentive to the way that his grey suit fit him to a T. It was really such a shame that she was so cagey around him; otherwise he was a fine sight for sore eyes. "I left my clothes in my locker," she lied mechanically and with such finesse. "Erm, I need someone to get my brother so he can lend me a pair of his clothes."

Roger was gazing at her intently, as if trying to spot falsehoods. When he seemed to have found none, he gave her a gently comforting smile (that successfully shocked her to the core) and took out his Blackberry. What was it with Contes and their Blackberries? "I can arrange someone to give you a change of clothes much quicker, if that's alright with you. Jon's sitting a test right now and I'll try and get a hold of your brother to tell him the situation. Hold still for a few minutes, okay?"

Al nodded mutely and hitched the towel higher in an attempt to stop herself from chewing the door in humiliation. Roger texted someone, and then moved a few steps away to call Thom. As much as Al didn't trust Roger Conte, she was glad that Thom had been friends with Jon, and thus in close acquaintance with all the Contes. When Roger was done, his face brightened and Al knew that her source of clothing had finally arrived.

Curiously, she turned her head to see who he had called and then gritted her teeth.

"You needed clothes?" Her saviour's drawl was painted in delight, and the chuckle that followed it was perfectly charming. No one but Delia, Queen Bee, could ever make Al feel so ill from dread and confusion.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Please don't kill me! I know I'm horrible for not updating for nearly 4 months, and I can't express how sorry I am for how late this chapter is (and how lacking in flow it appears to be). Uni started up again a few months ago, and I've been suffering from evil writer's block in regards to this story. I can only pray that it'll GTFO soon.

I just wanted to thank all of you for your reviews and continued patience. I do have to shout out to the anonymous reader, Unknown, who left such an amazing review and got me writing this chapter again in the past few weeks. Thank you, whoever you are, for your kind and moving words.

I haven't gotten around to replying to the reviews for the past 2 chapters, but I promise to begin again from now on. Much appreciation to: Syril Silverleaf, Tortall101, soccerchick-08, Itarille Celebrindal, Tishica, Rowena of Naxen, LadyKnight0207, bclovr-22, Sodie, lacking a better name, they-call-me-Squire, LittleMissGiggles'94', Ozymandyas, AlannaXJon4ever, studentofwords, Madame Star, silverphoenix, Ainsaboo, streetsass, FateStryke, SarcasticLoner, elf warrior princess, Elfsquire90, hixy, Cutiepay, Blip-chan, Crews, Daughter of Nature, still-unwritten-4-now, Light of Polaris, 90sgurl, flammingirl, LadyLilian, joe, hallie, Libby, and all the anonymous reviewers for leaving feedback!

You guys are simply incredible, and I'm flattered and ecstatic at the 148 members who have added this story to their alerts, and the 101 of you who have made this a favourite story so far. Even if it takes me forever, I'm determined to finish DD, at the very least for you all. That aside, thanks for reading and may good fics be with you always.


	17. Author's Note

Hey guys,

I'm so sorry that this is an author's note and not an actual chapter. I wish it was, but unfortunately, it isn't. I didn't realise until today exactly how long it's been since I last updated, and I don't want to leave you without any word from me at all for any longer than necessary. Diamond Dogs has not been abandoned; I'm just finding it incredibly hard to sum up the drive to write more for this particular story right now. A lot of it has to do with the fact that I'm pretty much unsure of where the story is heading; I write on whim and not by plan, so it makes it a bit more complicated than just churning out another update if I did have it all outlined from the beginning.

Lots of stuff has happened in the past few months in real life, and lots of things haven't happened. I hope you'll be able to accept the main reason why DD hasn't been updated. Just want to also express my eternal thanks to all of you who have been so patient and interested. Your reviews, PMs and emails do not go unread or unappreciated. Once again, Diamond Dogs is not being abandoned. It'll probably just be a while before the next chapter arrives.

Cheers,  
Verasque


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